


A House Divided - Marco's Mission

by Piscean6724



Series: A House Divided [4]
Category: Emergency!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-02-14 01:21:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 106,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2172558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piscean6724/pseuds/Piscean6724
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the 4th installment in the "House Divided" series. Marco's anxiety level seems to be increasing since he began staying with his mother a few weeks ago. What has created a rift within the Lopez family and how will it divide Station 51? This story picks up where "Desoto's Dilemma" ends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is the fourth installment in the “House Divided” series. A small segment of “DeSoto’s Dilemma” is repeated in order to set the time line for this story within the series. 

Marco’s Mission

Chapter 1

Marco sat on the edge of his bed, the same one he had slept in as a teenager. Over the last few weeks, he had basically moved in with his mother. A devoted and loyal son, he felt the need to help his mother through this time of year – every year for the last four years. The sound of his precious nephew padding down the hallway pulled a bittersweet smile from his round sad face. He waited for the tiny voice he knew would soon call out to him.

“Meeko?” A soft voice floated through the closed door, as small hands jiggled the door knob.

“It’s okay, Antonio. You can come in now,” Marco said, permitting the entrance of the curious four year old. He waited for the dark-haired child to launch himself into his uncle’s arms for their morning ritual.

Antonio bolted onto the bed and began climbing around on top of Marco. The two wrestled around for a few minutes with Marco pretending to be pinned to the mattress by the much smaller replica of himself. The child giggled in a carefree manner as he continued to pounce on his uncle with the stealth of a hunting mountain lion stalking his prey. 

Marco pretended not to notice as he bent down to slip on his shoes. Then, as soon as the tiny mass of energy bounded onto Marco’s head, the man grabbed onto the boy as he quickly stood up, spun around twice, then gently tossed the laughing little boy onto the bed. With all of his energy spent, Antonio merely lay in one spot, hugging his stomach as he continued to laugh. 

“Had enough, Ant?”

“No-no, I’m Ba’man,” the child sang out, rolling onto all fours then slowly standing. He made a swinging motion with one arm, as if tossing his imaginary cape behind him, then jumped off the bed and into the waiting arms of his uncle. 

“Oh, you’re Batman, huh? Then who am I, Robin?” Marco teased.

“No-no, you da Jockey!”

“The Joker,” Marco corrected, trying to hide his grin. He hugged the little boy closer to his chest as he picked up his bag with his free hand, and stepped into the hallway. He allowed the child to slide down his side and onto the floor, freeing up Marco’s hand to close his bedroom door. “Okay, Ant, time to go downstairs for breakfast.”

Antonio rushed to the stairway where he waited for his favorite uncle to catch up. Together, the two of them walked down the stairs, hand in hand, ready for breakfast.

Mrs. Lopez stirred the scrambled eggs into the onions and peppers then removed the pan from the hot burner. Taking a few heated tortillas, she spooned a small amount of the egg mixture into each one, rolling them up and topping them off with home-made salsa. Just as she set the plates on the table, she heard the sound of Marco and Antonio entering the warm kitchen.

“Good morning, Mama,” Marco announced, dropping his bag beside the back door. He noticed that she wiped her face before she turned around to greet them. Thankfully, the youngster climbing up to the table didn’t notice the emotional display. “Anymore phone calls?”

“No,” Mrs. Lopez sniffed. “But I keep hoping.”

“Are you hungry, Ant?” Marco asked, changing the subject.

“Uh-huh,” the child grinned, arranging himself in his chair and reaching for his orange juice.

“And what’s the Spanish word for that?” Mrs. Lopez asked.

Antonio grinned broadly at his doting grandmother. “Si,” he nearly shouted with pride.

Mrs. Lopez never missed a chance to share her culture and her faith with her children. Now, she was passing it down to her grandchildren, too, especially this one. “Marco, will you say grace before we eat?”

“Si, Mama,” he said, winking at his nephew as they reached out to hold hands.

The meal was eaten in relative silence. After Marco had finished his food, he pushed the plate aside, and reached for his orange juice. “You gonna be okay without me tonight?”

Mrs. Lopez appreciated the gesture. Truthfully, it didn’t matter if she was alright or not. He had no choice but to go to work. Her son was a dedicated firefighter and her heart swelled with pride every time she saw him in his uniform. “We’ll be fine, Marco. He isn’t the first little boy I’ve raised,” she said with a forlorn look on her face. “I seem to do better with boys than with girls,” she added, standing and collecting their finished plates while Antonio finished eating his burrito.

Marco stood up, waiting for her to set the plates into the sink then pulling her into a hug. “You are a remarkable woman, wife, mother and grandmother. I don’t know how you do it. But one thing I do know, is that this isn’t your fault at all.”

“My head knows that, but my heart still aches over it. I keep wondering what I could have done differently,” she whispered, not wanting her grandson to hear her.

“Nothing, Mama. There was nothing you could have done differently. She made some bad decisions a long time ago, and now, it’s all up to her,” he reassured.

“She made a wrong decision long ago, but the decisions she’s making now are not hers, Marco. They are not hers. Remember that, please.” The weeping woman nodded her head in the direction of the table, turning her back to the little boy as he drank the remainder of his orange juice. “He’ll be starting school in a couple of years. What will happen then, Marco? What will we do then?”

“We’re going to do everything we can between now and then. Don’t borrow trouble from tomorrow. Isn’t that what you used to tell me?” He asked her, gently patting her shoulder.

“Si,” she remarked, fingering the golden crucifix around her neck, the symbol of her faith. “If I get another phone call, I’ll let you know. Be safe, my son,” she said, turning around and planting a kiss on his tanned cheek.

“Call if you need me,” he told her as he walked toward his seated nephew. He ruffled the child’s straight dark hair. “Be a good boy for Grandma.”

“Okay,” the little boy muttered, using his pajama sleeve to wipe the orange juice mustache from his grinning face. 

Twenty-five minutes later, Marco parked his car in the parking lot behind Station 51. Based on the cars already parked there, he was going to be assigned latrine duty. He didn’t mind, though. Doing his chores alone meant he didn’t have to explain himself to anyone who might catch him staring at nothing for long periods of time. He stepped out of his car, locked it then headed for the locker room. He had taken care of dressing in his uniform before leaving for work, so he tossed his bag into his locker and headed in search of a hot cup of coffee. He had lost a great deal of sleep on his many late night outtings in recent weeks, so loading up on caffeine was a necessity before the first run.

He pushed through the kitchen door just as Chet was in the middle of some long drawn out tale. He tried not to listen, noting how intently Johnny was paying attention, but he couldn’t help but overhear a small segment that sent him into an uncharacteristic primal rage. 

“You’re gonna catch somethin’ ajax won’t remove,” Johnny spouted out.

“Nah, she’s young and innocent,” Chet commented, realizing that Johnny still hadn’t figured it out. Chet had already seen the look on Roy’s face and knew that he, as the father of a young girl, had figured out about whom Chet was referring.

Marco cut his eyes at his partner, setting his hot coffee down on the table. He felt his stomach lurch at Chet’s comment. “What did you say?”

Chet smiled. “Just that young wet naked babes find me attractive.”

“That isn’t funny, Chet.” Marco narrowed his tired eyes at the Irishman, too exhausted to fully comprehend the jest of Chet’s story.

“Yea, her mother didn’t think it was too funny, either. In fact, she was appalled by her daughter’s behavior.” Chet laughed, knowing that with that last comment, the entire crew would understand his joke. He was wrong.

Marco somehow mustered up the energy to bolt from his spot at the table, grabbing his partner by the shirt collar, and slamming him against the brown refrigerator door.  
“What the hell, Marco? It’s a joke! It was Corrie! She’d just gotten a bath!” The younger man yelled out, surprised by his partner’s reaction.

Mike and Roy suddenly appeared on either side of Marco pulling his hands away from Chet, and dragging him backwards. Johnny set down his coffee cup, rushing to Chet’s defense.

“You a’right?” Johnny asked, pointing a finger at Chet’s chest.

Hank pushed through the kitchen door, pinning his men in place with his stern hazel eyes. He saw Marco fuming, Mike and Roy holding him away from Chet. His younger lineman was straightening his shirt, as Johnny stood in front of him, effectively blocking Marco’s access to Chet. 

“Is there a problem in here?” The fire captain questioned his men.

Chet peered around Johnny, waiting for Marco to say something. When no one spoke, he decided to answer their captain’s question. “No… No, sir. Everything’s just FINE,” he spat out, emphasizing his last word.

Hank looked each man in the eye for confirmation. The only one who wouldn’t make eye contact was his older lineman. “Roll call in ten minutes. Kelly, tuck your shirttail back in. Lopez, my office… NOW!”

Chet shoved his shirttail back into the front of his navy blue pants, feeling confused and stunned. His partner had just pounced on him for reasons unknown to not only Chet, but the other members of the A-shift.

“Man… Who pissed in his oatmeal this morning?” Chet questioned, turning his collar back down at the back of his neck, and stepping away from the refrigerator.

Mike’s blue eyes continued to stare at the door through which Captain Stanley and Marco had just exited the kitchen, leaving behind them four dumbfounded men. “I don’t know, but that isn’t like him.”

“No, it isn’t,” Roy chimed in. “Something’s up.”

“Whatever it is, it’s a doozy. Nothin’ rattles Marco. I mean, the guy nearly got electrocuted at that gas station, and he wouldn’t even let us take him inside Rampart in a wheelchair. He insisted on walkin’ in.” Johnny’s chin was left hanging lower than usual, leaving his mouth agape. That usually meant he was perplexed, and Marco’s uncharacteristic behavior certainly left him feeling that way this morning.

“Yea well,… We better get ready for roll call. I sure don’t want to make Cap any angrier than he already is,” Mike added, pouring his lukewarm coffee into the sink. He then set about cleaning up the percolator, preparing it for the next pot of coffee that he was certain was going to be needed soon. This was shaping up to be a very difficult shift.

E!

Marco trudged behind his captain, his mind swirling with emotions. He was exhausted and had allowed his personal issues to affect his job performance. If his captain chose to suspend him, then he certainly couldn’t argue the point. He just hoped that a suspension was all he was going to get. His actions this morning deserved whatever punishment he got. He had completely lost his temper in front of his coworkers, and his partner had been the recipient of the brunt of his anger. How was he going to explain his actions to his shift mates?

He dragged his leaded feet through the doorway of the captain’s office, sitting in the hot seat beside the desk, a seat his partner and friend occupied more often than any other member of their crew. His embarrassment colored his tanned complexion as he leaned his forearms on his knees, not wanting to look directly into the disappointed face of his superior.

Hank took his seat at the desk, grateful that his older lineman had taken a seat rather than assuming a defiant stance. At least his appearance was that of a contrite sorrowful man. Hank swallowed hard, inhaling and exhaling a cleansing breath before he began, hoping that the klaxons would allow them a reprieve for a little while longer.

“Marco?” Hank watched the lineman hang his head even farther, facing the floor. Whatever was happening to him was extremely difficult for the younger man.

“I’m s-sorry, Cap. I’m really sorry.” Marco could feel the heat of his shame rising up around his collar, causing small rivulets of perspiration to run down behind his ears and along his temples.

“Well, I’m not the only one you need to apologize to.”

Marco rubbed his palms together nervously. “I know. I’ll take care of it before I leave.” He raised his face up enough to look at his captain through his upper eyelashes. “Am I fired, or just suspended?”

Hank sighed, rubbing his hand across his upper lip. He hadn’t expected the question he’d just been asked. “Well, what do you think I ought to do?”

Marco lowered his eyes again. “Fighting is a dischargeable offense, sir. I know that.”

Hank leaned forward, resting his forearm along the edge of the desk. He waited a moment until his crewmember looked up at him. “Yes, yes it is. Chet knows that, too. I can only assume that’s the reason why he didn’t fight back.” Hank knew he was presuming a lot since he had not been in the room when the altercation had actually occurred, but he also knew that his instincts were right, based on how Marco was reacting.

“Yes sir; Chet’s a good man.”

Hank leaned back in his chair once again. “Yes, he is, and so are you, Marco. So… What’s going on?”

Marco swallowed hard then leaned back in his seat. His stomach continued to flip flop. Never had he ever sat in this seat before and never did he think he would ever be here. It also had not escaped him that his superior had not answered his question. In his mind, that could only mean one thing. He was most likely going to be fired. “I’m, ah… I’m having some issues at home with my family.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Pal. Recently been through a rough patch myself.”

Marco stared at the floor. “Yes sir, but not like this,” he mumbled, his voice fading to nearly a whisper. “You were able to bounce back.” Marco wanted to say more, to explain that his own issue seemed to be never ending whereas his captain’s problem had reached a peak, allowing him to begin the healing process. However, being a very private man, Marco remained silent.

Hank’s heart ached at the sound of pain in his older lineman’s voice. “I’m bouncing back, Marco. I’m not back 100% yet, but I’m getting there with the help of my family, my… Ahem, my therapist, and my friends. I count you and the rest of the men among those who are helping me get back. If I remember correctly, you sat on me and helped pull me back from a pretty bad nightmare.” Hank still struggled with the idea of being in therapy, but now seemed like an appropriate time to remind his lineman.  
Marco merely nodded quietly.

“You’re among friends here, and I’m one of them. Is there anything… Anything at all that I can help you with?” Hank looked understandingly at the nervous man.

Marco hesitated just long enough to give Hank a sliver of hope that his upset crewmember was about to trust him with some vital information. 

“No sir,” Marco announced, shaking his head. “I wish you could, but you can’t. No one can.” He looked back up, his dark eyes searching his captain’s face for the answer to his original question. 

Hank pressed his lips together firmly. “I see. What about the other fellows? Is there one of them you could talk to?”

Again, Marco shook his head. There was no way he could bring the guys into his familial hell. He looked back up at his captain. “I’ll go clean out my locker, Cap.”

“Not yet, Pal.”

“Sir?”

“I said not yet. Let’s go have roll call before we get a run. We’ll continue this later.” Hank stood up, noticing the confused expression on his lineman’s face.

“I don’t understand. Aren’t you going to call in a replacement for me?”

“Like I said, not yet. I am going to talk to Chet, but I doubt he’ll want me to do anything. If I recall, he was given a second chance not so long ago.” Hank smiled, patting Marco on the back as the younger man stood up. Through his captain’s eyes, he could see a sense of relief and also concern on Marco’s tanned face. Hank reached for the door, ushering the lineman through ahead of him. The two of them made their way to the place where the other four men now stood, waiting for roll call to begin.

Chet looked up, his eyes locking briefly with those of his partner, then quickly diverting to the gray concrete floor. He knew that something was terribly wrong with Marco, but he was also still miffed about being shoved into the refrigerator in front of the other men. He rocked back on his heels, cutting a glance at Mike who stood directly to his left. 

Mike’s blue eyes scanned first Marco and then Captain Stanley. He noted that both men looked frustrated, leaving him with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He nodded his head at Marco, then straightened his shoulders and stared at the closed bay door. It wasn’t his place to mention the incident. If anything was to be discussed then Captain Stanley and Marco would have to be the ones to do it. 

Marco reluctantly took his place between Roy and Chet. He cleared his throat then stiffened his body, locking his eyes on the bay door, looking just over his captain’s shoulder. 

Hank waited for the last man to complete the formation before beginning. “Okay,” he began looking down at his clipboard. “I’ve got a couple of memos to go over with you here.” 

He scanned the pages, reading the relevant information to his crew, glancing up occasionally to ensure that they were still paying attention to him, without any flare-ups from the earlier commotion in the kitchen. “Alright, Mike you’ve got the kitchen and day room; Roy has the dorm. Chet and John, you fellas are hanging hoses. Marco, latrines and the apparatus bay. Let’s have a safe shift. Dismissed.”

Marco quickly spoke up before the others had a chance to break formation. “Uh, Cap?”

“Yes, Marco.”

“I’d, ah, I’d like to say something, if I may… Please?”

Hank looked his older lineman in the eye, searching for any clue about what he might say. He was unable to read Marco’s facial expressions and so, reluctantly, agreed for him to speak. “Alright... Go ahead.”

“Ahem, I’d like to, ah, to apologize to you, Cap, for what happened earlier. I put you in a bad situation, and I’m sorry for that.” Marco allowed his shoulders to sag, the weight of his words pressing him into the hard floor. “Mike, John and Roy… I’m sorry for my outburst. I appreciate what you did in there a few minutes ago,” he explained, nodding his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And Chet, I owe you the biggest apology of all. I don’t know what came over me. I know you were just joking around, but it… It struck a raw nerve or something. I hope you can forgive me. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Chet felt uncomfortable knowing that everyone was looking at him. He shoved his hands into his pockets hoping to calm himself before he spoke. He swallowed hard, opening his mouth just as his captain interrupted him.

“Thank you, Marco. Alright, men. Let’s get to it. Uh, Chet, I need to see you in my office, please.” Hank turned on his heels and walked with purpose straight to the captains’ office. 

“Yes, sir.” Chet shuffled his feet along the same path his superior had taken, feeling a sense of relief that he hadn’t had to accept Marco’s apology at the moment. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that step, yet. 

Johnny watched as his chore partner followed Captain Stanley. Having no desire to attempt to hang the hoses alone, he followed the somber looking Marco into the latrine. “Hey, ah… Want me to give you a hand until Chet gets done?” Johnny asked, walking through the latrine door behind Marco.

“Thanks, John, but I better do as much as I can by myself,” he said pulling out the toilet brush and heading for the stall. “I don’t know how long I’m going to be allowed to stay. If I get sent home, then one of you fellas will have to finish what I don’t get done,” he began, pouring the toilet bowl cleaner into the basin and beginning to scrub around the bowl. “I’ve done enough damage around here this morning,” he mumbled.

“Yea… About that,” Johnny continued, wanting to reach out to his hurting friend. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Marco smirked as he flushed the toilet, watching the blue frothy water swirling around the bowl and down to the city sewer. “If you want to check my BP and pulse, there’s really no need. BP’s high and pulse is rapid. Oh,” he raised himself back up, looking at his friend. “Remember that big guy down in that tank that we all had to jump on so Roy could give him some shot to calm him down?”

Johnny grinned broadly. “Yea, he single-handedly kicked all our asses at the same time. Remember how he had Chet turned upside down and was shakin’ him?”

Marco remembered the incident vividly. With a serious expression on his face, he spoke up. “Well, I’ll take one of those, if you have another one in the drug box. It might settle me down so I don’t do something else stupid.”

Johnny gulped, uncertain of what his friend meant by his statement. “I, uh, no… I mean, yea, but I can’t give it to ya. Gotta have a doctor’s order, ya know?” Johnny snickered nervously. He hoped Marco had just been joking around.

“I know, John. I was just kidding.” Marco stopped, in front of the mirror. He looked at Johnny’s reflection, their eyes locking briefly. “I really am sorry, John.”

Johnny walked up behind the older man, clapping him on the shoulder. “I know, man. It’s a’right. Let’s just shake it off and move on.”

Marco gave a quick nod of his head along with an affirmative sigh, then turned his attention to cleaning the row of sinks. Johnny, sensing Marco wanted to be alone, quietly exited the latrine and headed towards the hose tower to wait for Chet.

Inside Hank’s office, Chet sat in the seat beside Hank’s desk. He crossed his arms over his chest, a sense of frustration growing in his soul. He had not been in this seat for a while, and truthfully, he didn’t think he deserved to be here now. He felt as if he were about to be blamed for an incident that he had no part in. He could feel the blood rushing in his ears, his heartbeat thudding in his throat as he waited for his captain to begin the lecture Chet knew was coming.

“Chet, I’ve spoken to Marco about the incident in the kitchen. He assures me he is completely at fault, so take it easy. You aren’t in any trouble.”  
Chet finally looked up. “I’m not?”

“Of course not. The reason I asked to speak to you is because I need to know how you’re feeling right now. Have you calmed down any, or are you still pissed off?” Hank hoped that his frank choice of words would put his young crewmember at ease.

“Pissed off! How’d you feel if somebody shoved you around for no reason, huh?”

Hank smiled softly. He knew Chester B. Kelly better than Chet knew himself. His tactic had worked, Chet was opening up. “Well, I’d be mad as hell to be honest with you. I don’t know if I’d be able to work with him on this shift. And I’d probably be mad at my captain if he didn’t send Marco home on suspension, or even permanently.” He leaned back rubbing his chin, waiting for his words to sink in with his lineman.

Chet leaned his elbows onto his knees, exhaling loudly. He thought back to the day his entire shift, except Captain Stanley, had shown up at his apartment. Marco was right there, helping take care of him during the worst hours of his life. Now, something was wrong with Marco, and there was no way that Chet could turn his back on his best friend. It was time for him to return the favor, and do whatever he could to help Marco get past whatever was bothering him. He rubbed his hands together, knowing that Hank was waiting for a response from him. Right now, he had the power to darken Marco’s stellar career. He ran both hands through his thick curly hair, resting his head in his hands. He remembered how Marco, and the rest of the guys, had stood up for him when their captain had wanted to send him home for not reporting his foot injury. Now, there was just no way he could turn his back on Marco – not after Marco had spoken up on his behalf. Finally, he sat back up, shifting his blue eyes in the direction of Hank’s desk.

“I know you’re wanting to know if I can work with Marco on this shift. The answer is yes. I can let it go, Cap. I really can. I don’t know what’s goin’ on with him, but sending him home ain’t gonna help.” He pointed a finger at his own chest. “I was in a bad spot myself not so long ago, and Marco… Hell, everybody around here, helped bring me outta my funk. That helped me so much, Cap. Well, I’m sure you know what I mean. Anyway, I’m thinkin’ maybe Marco needs that now,” he said, jerking his thumb over his right shoulder in the direction of the latrine. “I think maybe I oughtta try talkin’ to him. Just, please don’t send him home, okay?”

Hank leaned back in his chair, grimacing at the squeaking noise the movement made. His plan had worked. “Alright, I’ll do as you wish… for now,” he cautioned, raising his finger in the air. “But, if I see anything that makes me think the integrity of this unit has been compromised, I’ll take the necessary steps to keep the citizens of our jurisdiction and you men safe.”

“Uh, if you mean that if you see we can’t work together, or if you think Marco is unfit for duty then you’ll send him home, I dig it.”

Hank scoffed at the younger man. “That’s exactly what I mean, Chet. Now, you go on and help John with those hoses before the klaxons send us scrambling,” he ordered, waving his hand towards the door.

Chet left the office in a rush. He wasn’t in a particular hurry to hang hoses, especially with Gage, but he was in a hurry to get out of the captains’ office. Just as he reached the back bay door, the tones sounded. He expertly executed an about-face, heading for his jump seat on the engine. 

Hank scurried to the radio to acknowledge the call and write down the address. Marco pushed through the latrine door. As soon as he reached his place behind Mike, he quickly donned his turnout coat and helmet. He grabbed the bar, swinging himself onto the engine, glancing briefly at his partner. What he saw made his heart skip a beat, causing him to swallow hard to fight his emotions. There was Chet, already in position with his gear on, looking down at the floorboard. He couldn’t help wondering what the younger man might have told their captain. With a frustrated sigh, Marco took his seat, wondering if perhaps this run might be the last of his career.


	2. chapter 2

Marco’s Mission

Chapter 2

The big red engine lumbered down the pothole-covered street in one of the poorer areas of 51’s district. The four men inside were jostled from side to side, causing the two in the jump seats to hold on for support to prevent them from being thrown to the floorboard, or possibly into the street. It wasn’t that Mike was a bad driver; he was one of the best in the county, but these streets were as neglected as most of the buildings in this section of the city, leaving him with no clear pathway to the plume of smoke rising in front of them.

As soon as Roy pulled the squad to a stop outside the apartment complex, he and John exited, immediately grabbing their SCBA. In tandem, they pulled the black harnesses over their shoulders, securing the yellow tanks to their backs. 

Behind the squad, Mike eased to a slow crawl, dropping Chet off to tap the hydrant. The engineer pulled forward, releasing the hose in a strategic manner perfected through countless previous runs. As soon as he stopped the engine in place, the men disembarked and began the task of battling the blaze.

Hank quickly loped over to the incident commander, then returned to his waiting crew. “I want an inch and a half through that far door, Lopez,” he pointed to his right, knowing his senior lineman would follow his directive without batting an eye. Marco’s earlier outburst was all but forgotten in the heat of the moment. The lanky captain then hurriedly   
made his way to the place where law enforcement officers were creating a perimeter to prevent civilians from interfering with the fire department operations.

Hank spun around quickly, heading straight to the squad. “John, Roy, IC thinks we’ve got an elderly female in 2-D.”

“We’ll get her,” Johnny responded, pulling on his air mask and slapping his pocket to make sure he had his HT.

“Grab and go, Pal. This old building hasn’t got a lot of fight left in her,” Hank said, with a sense of foreboding.

Mike completed his preparations at the control panel then gave Chet the signal to tap the hydrant. Chet followed his engineer’s command, watching to be sure the supply line was engorged before joining his partner on the hose. No matter what happened between them earlier, they had a job to do and nothing was going to stand in their way of defeating a roaring dragon.

Marco held onto the hose, slowly inching forward. He felt the familiar hand of his partner on his shoulder, a sense of support and security in one simple gesture. Chet was there backing him up, just like always. He pushed their earlier strife into the farthest corner of his mind, leaving it there for a later conversation, then moved ahead with the battle at hand. Muffled voices behind them grew closer just as a couple of men in turnout gear rushed past them. The fact that Gage and DeSoto were not manning lines meant there was a primary search underway within the burning structure. Without the need for additional directives, Marco headed for the stairs in order to offer their paramedics whatever water support he and Chet could as they searched for victims.

Outside, Mike’s eagle eyes scanned the scene while keeping a close watch on the gauges. Not only did they have a potential civilian victim still inside, but their linemen and paramedics were in harm’s way, and it was up to him to be a second set of eyes and ears for their captain. The two of them, Hank and Mike, worked well together. Mike never questioned the older man’s authority, and Hank never questioned his engineer’s knowledge and skill. They could read each other’s thoughts just as well as the paramedics and linemen could read the minds of their own partners. In the distance, he saw a lone figure, standing apart from the crowd. He was wearing a light colored sweatshirt with the collar pulled up over his nose even though the wind was blowing the smoke away from him. His upper face was hidden from view by the brim of his baseball cap pulled a little lower than seemed necessary. Mike made a mental note, then returned his attention to the task at hand. 

Inside the structure, the paramedics made quick work of searching apartment 2-D. Finding the woman in question, Roy assisted Johnny in pulling her into a fireman’s carry and heading for the exit. Roy hurriedly marked the apartment door with a chalk ‘X’ then followed his partner towards the stairs. The other second floor apartment doors had been left open, indicating the residents had escaped. The older paramedic stuck his head in quickly, scanning the small rooms. 

“Anybody in here?” He paused to listen, then moved to the next open door. “Hello? Fire Department, anybody in here?” Finding nothing, he once again used his chalk to mark the doors. As soon as he reached the stairwell, a soft choking cough somehow managed to be heard above the roaring noise of the all-consuming fire. Roy took a step back towards apartment A. “I’ll check it out,” Roy yelled to his partner, unaware that Johnny had neither heard Roy’s words nor the coughing sounds that led his partner in a different direction. 

Johnny descended the stairs as quickly, and yet as carefully, as he could. The added weight of an unconscious victim along with the wet stairs and blinding smoke and steam made a normally mundane task all the more dangerous. Finally, as he made it to the first floor, he saw that his linemen had forced the flames back enough to allow a direct path of egress from the structure without flames licking at the thin house coat worn by his victim. As soon as he was out of the building, he felt his burden being lifted from his shoulders and the voice of his captain questioning him.

“Let them take her, John. Where’s Roy?”

Johnny turned around just as the paramedics from 69’s carried his victim to safety. That’s when he realized that Roy had not made it out of the building. “I dunno. He was right behind me,” he responded frantically.

“Go look for him, but make it quick. I don’t think we can save this one,” Hank explained, sensing that their only course of action was to try to contain the fire to the current structure involved.

Back inside the tiny apartment, Roy searched, wondering if perhaps he had been mistaken about the coughing sound he thought he had heard. Then, just as he exited the bathroom, he saw a slight movement from the kitchen area. Pushing past an overturned chair, he looked behind the table and saw a disheveled female victim lying curled up in the corner. Quickly, he scooped her up in his arms and headed for the door.

Johnny rushed passed Marco and Chet one more time in search of his partner. Was Roy injured? Why had he not followed Johnny out with their victim? A thousand possible explanations rushed through Johnny’s mind, and he had to force them to remain silent while he searched for his missing partner. Never would he leave a brother behind in such an inferno, certainly not his best friend.

“ROY!” He called out, unsure if his voice could be heard above the roaring sounds of the fire and the hissing sprays of water. Just as he reached the second floor, he saw Roy hustling towards him with another victim in his arms. “C’mon, we gotta get outta here!” He stepped aside allowing Roy to pass by him. The victim needed clean air as quickly as possible. “Anybody else?” Johnny questioned.

“No,” Roy responded, taking the first step of the slippery stairwell.

At the base of the stairs, Marco saw the two paramedics descending the staircase. He and Chet had already switched places, so he used his feet to kick the hose out of the way, ensuring that his crew mates had as safe an exit as possible. The last thing he wanted to do was delay a rescue and even further injure a victim by causing the rescuer to stumble.   
Once outside, Johnny noticed that the other set of paramedics were treating the victim he had removed earlier. She seemed to be regaining consciousness and his heart felt a bit relieved. Now, he turned his attention to the younger victim Roy was carrying towards their squad.

Mike glanced up, saw his paramedics rushing out of the building with another victim, and with one last glance at his gauges, rushed to their aid. He quickly pulled open the compartments of the squad, removing the biophone, portable oxygen tank, and a disposable blanket. He then returned to his controls, seeing that their captain was jogging over to assist with the care of the victim.

Roy gently laid the young woman down on the yellow blanket, then began shrugging off his SCBA. Johnny, too, extricated himself from his air tank, then screwed the antenna into the biophone.

“Rampart, this is Squad 51. How do you read?”

Back inside the burning structure, Marco tapped Chet’s shoulder then took over the point position with the hose. A loud groaning noise caught his attention and both men looked up simultaneously.

“Ceiling’s gonna go,” Chet exclaimed, just as the order to retreat reached their ears.

Marco shut off the flow and both men hurried out of the structure, followed by a blast of smoke, dust and debris. They headed for their captain, as Mike looked up from his gauges. He had noticed the sudden change in water pressure and realized that it had occurred before the order to evacuate the building. Now, he hoped that his linemen had intentionally shut down the flow. He didn’t want to think of the other reasons why the water pressure might make a rapid change. When he saw that both linemen were out of the structure, he breathed a sigh of relief and headed over to the place where Hank was talking to them.

“Ceiling collapsed,” Chet said, breathlessly. 

“Alright, glad you fellas made it out. Other units are protecting the exposures. We’re in a defensive mode.” Hank once again scanned the scene with his hazel eyes.

“Damn…” Chet shook his head, wiping a gloved hand across his brow, pushing his helmet to one side. He quickly readjusted it. “I hate surround and drown.”

“We all do, Kelly. Nothing to save now, though,” Hank explained. Somehow, the order felt like defeat even though the experienced fire captain knew it wasn’t. Like all firemen, he preferred to walk away from a scene leaving something behind that was salvageable for those who lived there. That would not be the case this time. As his men trudged back to finish their jobs, he returned to his paramedics.

“What’ve you got?” Hank asked the busy men while eyeing the medical debris strewn around them from the IV packaging. He saw Roy taping the ordered IV in place. Johnny was busy taking another set of vitals.

“Pulse is still rapid and thready, respiration continues to be 20 and shallow, pupils sluggish…”

Hank listened to Johnny’s description of their victim’s updated vitals being relayed to Rampart. He couldn’t help but notice the extra attention Roy seemed to be paying to the woman’s abdominal area.

“Johnny, belly seems stiff and… Um,” he knitted his eyebrows together as he palpated what felt like a second-trimester pregnancy. “Possible pregnancy, movement along the lower ribs on the left side. She’s going sour on us,” Roy noted with obvious concern in his voice.

“Rampart, victim’s abdomen is rigid, probable internal bleeding and possible fractured ribs on the left side. Also, possible pregnancy.”

“51, monitor her vitals, keep her well ventilated and transport as soon as possible.” The gruff sounding voice of Dr. Kelly Brackett was unmistakable. 

“10-4, Rampart,” Johnny responded just as the Mayfair crew rolled up the gurney.

“I’ll ride in with her,” Roy announced, buckling the belts along her lower body.

“A’right, I’ll get your gear.” Johnny closed up the biophone. “Cap, will you get the drug box?”

Hank picked up the black box and loaded it into the ambulance. As soon as Johnny gave the customary two slaps and the ambulance pulled away, Hank turned to his younger medic. “Broken ribs and internal injuries? What happened to her?”

“Don’t know, Cap. Roy was heading out with her when I first saw them.” Johnny turned toward the squad, Roy’s turnouts hanging over his left arm. He turned back around for a moment, pushing up the brim of his helmet. “Hey, Cap?”

“Yea?” Hank asked, turning halfway around in the direction of his medic.

“You need me for overhaul?”

“No,” the captain waved off the younger man. “Go ahead and pick up Roy then make the squad available. We’ve got enough man power here to finish this up.”

Johnny replaced the equipment in the squad’s compartments then took a seat on the tan bench seat behind the steering wheel. With the window rolled down and his elbow resting on the ledge, he slowly maneuvered the squad through the thinning crowd in the direction of Rampart.

Inside the ambulance, Roy’s patient was exhibiting signs of agitation as she slowly began to regain consciousness. Her breathing was becoming progressively more labored, her brow sweaty, and pain caused her facial muscles to twitch and contort. Roy tried to comfort her, knowing that she was likely able to hear his voice even if she wasn’t yet able to open her eyes.

“Sshhh, you’re gonna be alright. Just relax for me. We’re on our way to the hospital and they’ll take good care of you,” he crooned in his softest voice. He watched as her eyes fluttered partially open, while she searched for the source of the voice speaking to her. He smiled at her when her eyes finally seemed to focus on him. “Hi, my name’s Roy DeSoto and I’m a firefighter/paramedic. Just relax, alright? I need for you to take it easy and stay still.”

“Ba-uh, ahhh,” she groaned, squeezing her eyes closed again as she tried to wrap her arms around her abdomen, the fog of pain preventing her from forming the words she wanted to relay to her rescuer.

“I know. I know it hurts.” He reached for her hands pulling them back down to her sides. “Just try to relax and breathe for me,” he requested, adjusting the oxygen mask she had inadvertently shifted when she rolled her head from side to side.

The bouncing inside the ambulance indicated that they were making their approach to the emergency room entrance. Roy prepared his charge to be moved as the ambulance backed to a stop at the glass doors. Moments later, he assisted in the careful transfer of the woman from the ambulance stretcher to the exam table inside treatment room three. 

Again, she cried out in pain even though the medical staff were very careful during the transfer. Her arms immediately wrapped around her abdomen.

“She’s been guarding her abdomen since we started the trip in, Doc,” Roy said to the dark-haired physician who was barking orders to the nurses around him.

Dixie began removing the woman’s clothing, grimacing at the bruises that had formed on her left side. 

The bruising had also been seen by Dr. Brackett who immediately began ordering x-rays and blood work. “What were the circumstances, Roy?”

The paramedic had worked with his medical director long enough to understand what the older man meant. “She was huddled in a corner of her kitchen in a fetal position, unconscious.”

Dr. Brackett’s piercing blue eyes looked up at his paramedic. “Was she further injured during the rescue?”

Roy felt the sting of the physician’s words, even though he knew why the question was being asked. If positions had been reversed, he would have done the same thing. “No, this was how I found her.”

“And how was she carried out?” Dr. Brackett continued his exam without looking at his paramedic.

“Cradle carry,” Roy stated flatly.

Satisfied with the answers to his questions, Dr. Brackett positioned the earpieces of his stethoscope and began listening to his patient’s breath sounds, a curious look crossing his face as his stethoscope moved lower and lower. He palpated her abdomen, grimacing at the small rounded mound between her navel and pubic bone.

“Is she?” Dixie asked, raising one eyebrow. She remembered the comment Johnny had made about a possible pregnancy.

“Get me a Doppler,” the physician ordered.

“You need me, Doc?” Roy asked, backing towards the door.

Dr. Brackett looked over his shoulder at Roy. “No, go ahead.”

Roy exited the room, looking down the corridor for his partner. Not seeing Johnny, he headed for the nurse’s station in search of coffee and supplies. Several minutes passed before he heard a familiar voice.

“How’s the patient?”

Roy looked behind him at his partner, then turned around and leaned against the counter. “I don’t know. Brackett’s still in there with her. She started coming around on the way in.” He grimaced, tilting his round face slightly downwards. “She was in a lot of pain.”

The two continued their conversation for a few minutes until Dr. Brackett and Dixie exited the treatment room with somber faces.

“What happened?” Roy asked with concern in his voice, fearing the worst. He had learned to recognize the look of defeat on the face of Dr. Kelly Brackett.

Dr. Brackett pocketed both hands into his lab coat. “She’s got a good chance of making it, I think. Unfortunately, the baby didn’t.”

“She was pregnant then,” Roy stated, setting his coffee cup down on the counter. “I-I wasn’t sure.”

“Well, I’m guessing that someone didn’t want her to be. It looks like blunt force trauma in the abdominal area and lower left rib cage. There’s fingerprint bruises forming along her right forearm. I thought I heard fetal heart tones at first, but when I got a Doppler to listen closer, I didn’t hear any. An exam showed she was pregnant and based on fundal height, she was about 15 – 17 weeks, I’m guessing.”

“How’d I miss that?” Roy questioned, running his hand along his chin. His voice held the sound of frustration.

“Between the noise at the scene and her own rapid heart rate, you probably couldn’t have heard fetal heart tones even with a Doppler while out there,” Dr. Brackett nodded toward the exterior wall of the Emergency Room.

Roy hung his head in defeat. “No, I mean the bruises. I didn’t see them.”

“Nothing you could’ve done anyway, Roy. Besides, with her broken ribs and internal bleeding, you were doing your job. You were focusing on the life-threatening issues first. She’s going to be going up for surgery as soon as an OR opens up.” He slapped the older paramedic on his shoulder. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Roy. Someone else did. Her injuries were not accidental, plus there are a few older bruises, too. Let’s just hope she’ll be able to tell the police what happened when she wakes up.”

E!

Overhaul was progressing without incident. Chet and Marco continued working well together, as if there had been no earlier altercation. Mike and Hank were assisting with the clean-up, both keeping their eyes and ears open for any signs of distress from their two remaining crew members. 

The crowd of on-lookers began to dwindle as the last wisps of smoke ascended towards the bright blue heavens. There were wailing sounds of residents who had just watched most of their worldly possessions disappear before their eyes. What the fire didn’t destroy, the smoke and water damaged beyond repair. Thankfully, there were no fatalities to report from this particular incident, although there had been two injuries, one critical. Those left on scene were unaware of the fetal demise experienced by the second victim.  
Amid the remaining crowd, behind a few of the taller men, stood a dark-haired beauty. She had watched her friend being carried away in an ambulance and she silently prayed to the God she feared no longer listened to her prayers, that her friend might survive the harrowing experience. She wanted to follow the ambulance to the hospital, but she had no means of transportation. Instead, she simply stood back and watched the men from the county fire department do their jobs. One man in particular caught her attention. Her brown eyes followed his every move. She hadn’t seen him in a very long time, but the outline of his face, even beneath his helmet, was unmistakable. She had seen it almost daily for nearly a decade and a half. Now, she just hoped he wouldn’t see her. It was one thing to know how disappointed her family was with what she had done, but to see it written on the face of her older brother was more than her shattered heart could handle. She quickly wiped away the lone tear that threatened to leave a damp trail down her tanned cheek. She had learned to hide her emotions, her fears and her guilt. Tears were a sign of weakness that she had seen exploited too many times. They were a symbol of the humanity of which she no longer felt apart of.

E!

The two paramedics rolled down the streets of Carson, windows lowered allowing the cool air to blow across their soot-covered sweaty faces. Johnny occasionally stole a glance at his partner, worried about the older man’s recriminations regarding the unseen bruises on their second victim. He decided to break the silence with something that he considered to be good news.

“Hey, Roy?”

Without turning his head, Roy responded. “Yea?”

“I, uh, I thought about something while we were off,” Johnny stated, using the heels of his hands to rub his eyes. His sweat-soaked bangs blowing in the wind had irritated them.

“And?” Roy really wasn’t in the mood to hear another of his young partner’s hair-brained ideas.

“Well, I talked to Chet and…”

“Uh-oh,” Roy groaned, turning right onto 223rd Street.

“No, really… See, Caroline is trying to find a part-time job so she can save money for another car. And that means that she needs daycare for Corrie,” Johnny’s hands were becoming more animated as his excitement grew. 

“Okay, you gonna babysit?” Roy had no idea where Johnny was heading with his story.

“No, no, not me. See, I was thinkin’… What if Caroline took Joanne’s job at the flower shop and Joanne kept Corrie? Joanne would make a little money doing something she loves and is really good at. She’d be at home, which is what she really wants anyway. You and the kids would be happy about that. Corrie would be safe and well cared for. Caroline would make some extra money to save for a car… Everybody wins,” he grinned lopsidedly, proud of his plan.

Roy cut his eyes over at his partner, remaining silent as he backed the squad into the empty apparatus bay. The engine crew had not yet returned to the station. “What if Caroline doesn’t want to work in a florist’s shop? What if Jo doesn’t want to give up her job? What if her boss doesn’t want to hire Caroline?” He asked matter-of-factly, backing to a stop and staring at Johnny.

Johnny sat in his seat, his mouth hanging open slightly. “Huh?”

“Actually, I’m just kidding, Junior. That really doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Have you mentioned it to Chet?”

Johnny grinned, thinking how nice it was to have Roy acting like his old self again. “Nah, haven’t had a chance. I was gonna do it just before Marco TKO’d him this morning.”

“Humph, yea, that was unusual wasn’t it?” Roy opened his door, stepping out into the bay and slamming the door behind him. 

Johnny waited for the sound of the two slamming doors to cease before he spoke back up. “Yea, somethin’s up with Lopez. I tried talkin’ to him earlier, but he wasn’t in a talkin’ kinda mood.”

“Who’s got lunch?” Roy asked, unable to remember who was supposed to be preparing their lunch, but assuming it was one of the engine crew. He felt uneasy talking about their lineman’s unusual behavior and needed to change the subject.

“Uh, Stoker I think,” Johnny responded, pouring a glass of water and passing it to Roy before pouring another one for himself. Both men knew the importance of hydrating after a fire.

“They’ll likely be gone awhile. Why don’t we go ahead and get some sandwiches started?” Roy asked, pulling a knife out of the drawer.

“Heck, yea, I’m always ready to eat,” Johnny grinned.

E!

Back at the scene of the apartment fire, the engine crew from 51’s climbed tiredly on board their rig. It had been a long morning for everyone involved, especially for the people who now were seeking the assistance of the Red Cross staff who had just arrived to offer a little relief to the victims. Marco watched as the line of weeping survivors began to form around the red-vested personnel. His tired blood-shot eyes swept over the scene as Mike started the engine. 

This was not Marco’s first time to survey this neighborhood. The last time he had been here, which was only a couple of weeks ago, he had been in a compromising position that could have resulted in an embarrassing arrest and ultimately a dismissal from the department had he been caught. That morning, shortly after midnight, a young lady had climbed into his car expecting to be paid for a particular illegal service. Instead, Marco had driven her to an abandoned parking lot where she was paid, not for her body, but for her information. The woman, known to Marco only as Sabrina, confirmed that a nineteen year-old woman named Alexia Lopez was indeed alive and staying somewhere in this section of town. Unfortunately, she was also known to be a Go-Go dancer, occasional stripper, and, more recently, a prostitute in the more run down areas of the city. During his encounter with Sabrina, an agreement had been reached between them. She would keep giving him updates on his wayward baby sister, whom he had always called Lexi, as long as Marco paid Sabrina for her time and information. 

The engine bounced across another pothole, snapping Marco’s mind back to the present. Now, as he watched the smoldering residential remains disappear from his view, he was left wondering if perhaps he had just assisted in extinguishing a fire that had destroyed what little shelter and possessions Lexi Lopez had acquired in the nearly five years she had been gone. And if so, perhaps this would be the catalyst for the return of the prodigal daughter.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

By the time the crew had finished eating lunch, the paramedics were just returning from their third run of the shift. Mike was running hot water in the sink, dribbling a bit of dishwashing liquid into the steaming hot stream, when he heard the slamming doors signaling the return of Roy and Johnny. Mike grinned, remembering the sight of the prepared but uneaten sandwiches on the table when the engine crew had returned. The food was evidence that the squad had been called out before the two paramedics had gotten a chance to eat their lunch. He waited for the door to swing open, then looked over at the man he knew was the hungrier of the two.

“Fresh food’s on the table.” Mike cocked his head in the direction of the table then returned to his dishwashing duty.

“Ah, thanks, Mike. Man, am I starvin’,” Johnny complained, rubbing his hands together, heading for the cabinet to retrieve a clean glass. “We got any milk?”

“Yea, there’s a carton in there. About half of it’s gone, though, so you might want to pick up more on your next run,” Mike responded.

“Will do,” Johnny replied as he slathered four slices of bread with mayonnaise. He loaded up two slices with a variety of cold cuts and sliced veggies, then topped them with the remaining slices of fresh bread. He took a big bite of one of the sandwiches, then looked over at his partner who was still preparing his single sandwich. “Whatsa matter? Aren’t ya hungry?” He asked, his jaw filled with half-chewed food.

“Yea, I’m just a bit more discerning about what I eat,” Roy chided with a grin. He had to admit, bantering with the guys at the station again felt so much better than being uptight and angry all the time. That thought sent his mind reeling back to the events of the morning and the two missing linemen. “Uh, Stoker?”

“Yea?” Mike rinsed the glass he held in his hand as he waited for the question.

“Where’s Chet and Marco?”

“Out back, I think. Marco asked Chet if he could help him hang the hoses. I’m hoping they’re working out whatever was wrong this morning.”

Johnny gulped his milk, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth as he listened to the conversation. He had to admit that the abrupt interruption of Chet’s morning tale had been weighing heavily on his mind. He had always hated confrontations, especially after all he had witnessed in his late teenage years. He took another large bite of sandwich, forcing those long ago memories to remain in the recesses of his mind. He swallowed, then inhaled deeply before blowing out his cheeks in a cleansing exhalation, hiding his somber memories behind his lopsided grin and loud voice. “Well, a’right! I don’t hafta hang hose.”

“Says who?” Hank asked, his booming voice pushing through the open kitchen door a step ahead of him. He stood just inside the doorway, propped both hands on his hips, trying his best to hide the smirk he felt tugging at the corners of his mouth when he saw his younger medic’s startled reaction.

Johnny jumped suddenly at the sound of his captain’s booming voice resonating through the open kitchen door. “Oh, uh… Sorry, Cap. I was, uh…”

“At ease, Pal. Marco agreed to take your chores if you’ll mop the bay for him. I figured you wouldn’t mind.” Hank grinned at his relieved man. “I agreed to the arrangement… I’m just hoping I won’t end up with a lineman hanging FROM the hose, though.”

A round of snickers echoed in the small kitchen. The comment was funny, but the situation involving their linemen was anything but comical.

“Yea, any idea what’s eating at him?” There was no need to explain the question. Johnny knew that the other three men would know about whom he was referring. He bit off another quarter of the sandwich he still held in his hand and began chewing noisily. 

“No,” Hank rubbed his chin. “I was kind of hoping one of you fellas might know something.”

“Nope, he just blew up at Chet this morning,” Roy explained as the others nodded in agreement. 

“Well… If anyone gets a chance to talk to him, please try to find out what’s wrong… And, what I, er… What we can do to help him.” 

“I tried earlier,” Johnny began. “While you were talkin’ to Chet, but he didn’t wanna talk about it.”

“I see,” Hank mused, not exactly sure that Johnny would be Marco’s first choice when it came to confidences. He cast a furtive glance at his engineer.

Mike’s blue eyes saw the unspoken message written on his superior’s face. The engineer would do whatever he could to arrange a chance to speak privately with their senior lineman. The crew all knew that Mike was the least likely person to share a secret with anyone. Chet and Johnny were both talkers, especially when it came to a pretty face. Hank and Roy were married men, which created the opportunity for them to accidentally share something with their wives. Besides, both of them had also been through rocky episodes with their spouses recently, leaving them even more vulnerable to personal difficulties. That left Mike. Although quiet, the man was as honorable as any man could ever be. Therefore, it only made sense that if Marco needed a friend, Mike was the most obvious choice among the crew with whom to share his burden.

E!

“Okay, last one. Ya got it?”

“Yea,” Marco called down to his partner who was standing on the ground, looking up at him through squinted eyes.

As soon as the task was completed, Marco began climbing down from the tower. When he stepped off the last rung, he called out to his partner who had already turned to head back inside the station. “Um, Chet?”

Chet turned sideways, looking back at his partner. “Yea?”

The older man cast his eyes downward, closing the distance between them before looking up again. “I wanted to apologize again for this morning. You didn’t know I was in a bad mood, and… Well, what you were saying just hit me wrong somehow. I’m really sorry.”

“Let it go, Lopez. It’ll be alright.” Chet wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t comfortable speaking to Marco about the earlier altercation. His own feelings were still hurt more than he wanted to admit.

“I hope it will. I know we’re not okay yet, and I don’t blame you.” Marco continued staring at his own feet, his hands shoved in his navy blue pants pockets. “I do want to say that I appreciate whatever it was you told Cap earlier. He really should’ve sent me home, or… Or fired me. He had every right. And he would’ve if you’d told him you couldn’t work with me. So, I just wanted to say thanks.” He extended his hand in a gesture of gratitude.

Chet looked at the outstretched hand of his friend. He hesitated, running a nervous finger beneath his nose as he contemplated accepting the handshake. Then, he thought about how this man had stood up for him when he was in a similar spot with Captain Stanley, and slowly he reached out and firmly grasped the outstretched hand. “You did the same for me, Marco. It wasn’t that long ago that I was in deep shit around here. You, ah… You stood up for me then, too. I’m just returning the favor.”

Marco felt the backs of his eyes sting when Chet clasped his hand against Marco’s own larger hand and firmly began to shake it. They had been partners since the station had opened; everyone except Captain Stanley was a member of the original crew. No one wanted to see them split up. When the contact between them was broken, they each turned and silently walked back into the station. Marco still had chores to complete, but he didn’t mind the tasks he had been assigned. It felt good to believe that he was not going to   
be completely ostracized by his second family, while his family of origin seemed as if it might never be repaired.

Johnny was about to begin sweeping out the apparatus bay when he saw the two linemen talking and shaking hands. His lopsided grin threatened to break through just as they turned and started into the station. Quickly, he looked down whistling, obviously trying not to look as if he had just been eavesdropping. He looked up when Chet entered the bay and noticed Marco pushing through the latrine door to finish what he had started earlier.

“Oh, Kelly,” Johnny began, leaning against the broom. “I’ve got a proposition for ya.”

“No, thanks. I’m not that desperate. Besides, you’re just not my type,” Chet sneered, batting his lashes at Johnny.

“Oh, stow it, Kelly. It’s not that kind of proposition. Besides, John Gage,” he said, splaying his hand over his chest arrogantly, “never has to pay for it. If ya know what I mean.”

“Yea, I know what you mean. No chicks are willing to give it up to you even for a lotta dough.”

Roy walked out of the kitchen, having finally been given a chance to finish his lunch in peace. He stood hidden behind the squad listening to the bantering between Chet and Johnny. He laughed a little, then wiped the grin off his face. He needed to be serious if he was going to be able to join in the conversation.

Johnny couldn’t help himself. Every time Chet dangled the bait, he bit. “Oh yea? Well, let me tell you what Holly and I did…”

“So, did you explain the plan to Chet yet?” Roy asked, stepping into the debate, trying to shut Johnny up before he embarrassed himself further.

Chet held up his hands, palms out. “No way, man. I don’t want any part of some plan involving Johnny.”

“Would you just shut up and listen for a minute. It doesn’t involve you. It involves Joanne and Caroline,” Johnny stated hotly, unaware of how his comment had sounded.

Roy saw his chance and jumped into the conversation. “What? You’re propositioning Joanne AND Caroline?”

“Yea, Gage. What makes you think you’ve got something that Roy and I don’t have, huh?” Chet quizzed, siding with Roy and trying not to laugh at Johnny’s shocked expression.

“No, no way, man. It’s not that, I mean, I was just wantin’ to help the two of them out and…”

“Well, I think I can help out Joanne any time she needs my assistance,” Roy said knowingly. “She sure as hell doesn’t need you when she has me.”

“That’s right,” Chet chimed in. “And, I’ll take care of Caroline,” he added. Truthfully, he wished he could take care of her in that way, but so far, they hadn’t had the opportunity and he certainly didn’t want to push her into something she wasn’t yet ready for. She had shared her one and only sexual experience with him and he wasn’t about to allow the event to be repeated. When the time was right, he wanted to truly make love to her. He inhaled deeply, willing himself back to the conversation at hand before his body responded to his thoughts in a rather embarrassing way.

“Wa-wait a minute. That isn’t what I meant, fellas.” Johnny shifted hands with the broom, moving it to his other side. “You’ve got this all wrong.”

“Well, suppose you straighten it out for us, alright?” Roy asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Of course he already knew about the plan, but he was enjoying the banter.

“Okay, well… Let’s go grab a snack and we can discuss it,” Johnny said, smiling with relief at the opportunity to change the subject.

“Snack? You just ate lunch,” Roy complained.

“Yea, we’re gonna start callin’ you Shaggy and not because of your hair,” Chet joked, following the paramedics into the kitchen. “If you weren’t so agile on rescues, I’d swear you were smokin’ grass, Gage.”

“Ha-ha,” Johnny yelled out as he pushed his way through the kitchen door. He grabbed an apple from the refrigerator then threw one of his legs over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He sank his teeth into the red apple with a crunching sound. “Okay, here’s my idea, Chet.”

Mike listened for a moment as he dried the last of the dishes and gently set them down inside the cabinet. He returned the drying towel to its designated spot, then headed out of the kitchen. With Hank working on reports and Roy and Chet sitting around the kitchen table engrossed in one of John’s schemes, he knew that left Marco alone somewhere in the station, and now was as good a time as any to try to talk to him.

Inside the latrine, Marco finished polishing up the mirror. He tossed the used paper towel into the trash can just as the door opened. He nodded a greeting at Mike, unsure how his engineer was feeling towards him after his earlier outburst.

“Looks good, Marco. Not everyone remembers to clean the mirror,” Mike commented.

“Thanks.” Marco bent down, retrieving his cleaning supplies. “I’ll get out of your way,” he said, assuming the engineer needed a few moments of privacy in the latrine. 

“Um, actually, I was wondering if I might talk to you for a minute?”

The lineman felt his heart skip a beat. “About what? Did I do something wrong at the fire this morning?”

“No, of course not,” Mike said, taking a seat on one of the benches. “If you had’ve, Cap would’ve told you, not me,” he said, offering a brief smile. “I never say much around here, but I’m a good listener. If something’s wrong, Marco, then I’d like to help.” Mike’s blue eyes stared compassionately at his friend. 

Marco hung his head, his dark eyes brimming with tears. Everyone knew that his morning behavior wasn’t just a sudden misunderstanding. They all knew that something was terribly wrong. He couldn’t hide it and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up his searching without it affecting his work; obviously, it already had. He plopped down on the bench across the aisle from his engineer.

“I don’t know, Mike. It isn’t that I don’t trust you. I do. I just don’t know if I can talk to anybody. It’s… It’s something shameful for me and my family.” He stared at his hands clasped together in his lap. 

“By shameful, I’m assuming you mean that one of your family members has done something?” Mike knew how close Marco was to his large family, both immediate and extended. He also knew that their religious beliefs were very important to them and so, he surmised that Marco’s rage had been brought on by a family member’s misdeeds.

Marco merely shook his head. He thought briefly about sharing the details with Mike, then thought better of it. He looked back up, staring at the wall in front of him. “I appreciate your concern, Stoker. I really do, but… I just can’t get into it right now. Not here.”

Mike pressed his lips into a thin line. He had been sure the older man was about to reveal something important to him. “Okay, I don’t wanna pressure you about anything, but...” Mike stepped forward, clapping his lineman on the shoulder. “If you need me, I’m here, anytime.”

Marco looked away, nodding his head appreciatively. He tried to thank his friend for his concern, but only succeeded in making a choking sound. He cleared his throat then tried again. “Ahem, thanks.” Mike headed back to the other side of the station to finish straightening up the dayroom. He just hoped that the three men he’d left at the kitchen table were finished with their conversation.

Back inside the kitchen, Johnny was grinning like the proverbial cat that ate the canary. He could tell that the two men sitting with him at the table were buying into his idea about Joanne and Caroline switching places. Joanne would keep Corrie while Caroline worked at the florist’s shop. The part he couldn’t tell them about was the real reason why he wanted Joanne out of Iris Campbell’s shop.

“So…,” Johnny clapped his hands in front of him then rubbed them together as if he were about to devour a feast. “You’ll talk to them about it?”

Chet and Roy looked at each other, then back at Johnny. Both had agreed that the idea sounded like a perfect solution. Now, they both shook their heads in agreement.

“But, what if Joanne’s boss doesn’t like the idea?” Chet asked.

“Oh, she will,” Johnny waved his hand in front of his face as if blowing off Chet’s concern. “As long as she gets help, she doesn’t care.”

Roy narrowed his eyes at his nonchalant partner. It almost sounded as if Johnny had already gotten the approval of Iris Campbell to make the switch. “How do you know?”

“I-um, well, I don’t… I mean, uh… What’s there not to like? Everyone is happy, right?”

Chet cocked his head to the side. “Hey, wait a minute. What do you get outta this, Gage? What’s in it for you?”

“Me?” Johnny asked incredulously. “Nothin’. I mean, I don’t want anything. I just thought about it and it seemed obvious to me. This way, everyone’s happy.” How could he tell them that he really didn’t want his best friend’s wife working for a woman he had known for the last ten years? What would happen if somehow, Iris let something slip about their past together? After all, there were things in his past that even Roy didn’t know he had been involved in… And he intended to keep it that way.

E!

That night, the lighting in the dayroom was dim while most of the crew sat around the sole source of light, the television set, engrossed in an old black and white horror movie. The jarring sound of the telephone ringing elicited a few gasps from the five men whose nerves were beginning to fray. Hank jumped up and quickly answered it.

“Station 51, Captain Stanley speaking…. Oh, yes ma’am,” he spoke softly into the receiver. He placed the hand set against his chest to cover his voice. “Lopez,” he whispered loudly, holding up the phone in the direction of his lineman.

Marco stood up quickly. “I’ll take it in the dorm,” he said, rushing out the door. Very few people called him at the station which meant this was likely his mother. If she was calling him at nine o’clock at night, then she must have received another call herself. 

In the latrine, Mike stepped out of the shower and quickly towel-dried himself off. He wrapped the white towel around his narrow waist and stepped barefooted across the cold floor to his locker. While standing there, pulling out his boxers and a tee shirt, he overheard his senior lineman talking in the dorm. Feeling like a heel, he sat back down on the bench hoping to hear a bit of information to explain Marco’s unusual behavior.

“Mama, did she say anything else?” Marco questioned, begging his mother to reveal something useful to him. “Okay, but she said she’s alright, right?”

‘She?’ Mike thought to himself. ‘Who is he talking about?’ The engineer leaned back slightly, hoping to hear a little better.

“Did you hear any background noises?” Marco hesitated a moment, then continued. “Big trucks?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his fatigue getting the better of him. “Okay, Mama. You did great… No, no it’s no problem calling me here. Call me anytime you need to, you know that… Yes, ma’am… Give Ant a hug for me and… Yes, I know. I love you too, Mama… Goodnight.”

Mike quickly jumped up, pulling the towel from his waist and quickly covering his nakedness with his white boxers and tee shirt. He was finger-combing his damp hair when he heard the door between the dorm and locker room open. He pretended to ignore the man walking through, hoping Marco wouldn’t know he had overheard anything. “Oh, hey Marco. Shower’s empty if you want to jump in.”

Marco sat down heavily, exhaling loudly. “Yea, I could use a hot shower right about now.”

Mike sensed his opening. “You okay?”

Again, he considered telling Mike about his family situation, but just as quickly the thought passed. He didn’t want to get into the middle of his family shame and have the tones sound, or worse, have Johnny or Chet interrupt the story. He sighed heavily then pushed his tired body into a standing position. “Just the usual,” the older man groaned, standing up slowly to gather his toiletries for the shower.

E!

Back at the Lopez residence, Maria Lopez tucked her youngest grandchild into bed, kissing him lightly on the forehead. “Did you say your prayers?”

“Si,” the youngster answered, grinning with the use of his newly acquired Spanish word. 

“Sleep well, Antonio.”

“G’night,” the dark-haired child said, sleepily rolling over onto his side and closing his eyes.

Maria returned to her bedroom, sitting down on the edge of her bed. She stared at the telephone; the same one she had just used to speak to her youngest child a half an hour earlier. She had been expecting the call since tomorrow she would be celebrating her 58th birthday. Alexia Lopez never failed to call her mother around her birthday, even after the young girl left home so unexpectedly.

Maria sighed, stretching her arms over her head and releasing the bun she had worn all day. Her salt and pepper hair cascaded down around her shoulders. Using her fingers, she massaged her scalp, then ran her fingers through the length of her locks. She wiggled her toes as she rubbed her feet, feeling the achiness from her last few days of working around the house without sleep. Now that she knew her daughter was still alive, she hoped she would be able to sleep tonight. Her biggest fear had not yet been realized – her precious child was not a nameless body lying in a morgue waiting to be claimed by the family who hadn’t seen her in years. 

She pushed her ample body up, walking over to her chest of drawers and withdrawing her lavender nightgown. Quickly, she changed into her bed clothes and returned to pull the covers back on her bed. Then, as she had done every night for as long as she could remember, she knelt down beside her bed to pray.

E!

Morning tones sounded, pulling a sleepy crew back to wakefulness. They had only gotten back in bed around four in the morning from a late night fire. Hank was the first to drag his body out of bed to acknowledge that the station was up and moving. “Station 51, KMG-365.”

“Damn,” Chet groaned. “Is it that time already?”

“Ye-ep,” Johnny affirmed, his mouth opening in an unflattering yawn.

One by one the men trudged from the dorm, pulling on their bunkers and snapping their suspenders in place. Mike was trying to look busy hoping to have a chance to speak to Marco one more time. His careful maneuvering around his bed paid off, and he stood up just as a weary-looking Marco shuffled in front of him.

“Lopez? Wanna grab some breakfast when ‘B’ gets here?”

Marco hesitated for a moment. He had been considering Mike’s concerned questions, and offers of assistance, since the beginning of the shift. He knew that he needed to let off some steam before he exploded at someone again. He also knew that Mike was even more familiar with Los Angeles than he was, and that perhaps the younger man might be able to identify the street sounds Maria Lopez had heard in the background during the phone call from Alexia last night. Never had Marco felt as uptight as he did now. His baby sister was so close and yet, so far away. As his mother’s birthday came and went each year, he worried more and more that she might never see her precious Lexi again. Today was another reminder of the future he so feared. He knew he needed to go back home to spend the day with his mother, but he also knew that he was in no frame of mind to head straight home after shift. 

Giving in to his concerns about revealing the Lopez shame to Mike, he reluctantly agreed. “I’d appreciate that, Stoker,” Marco said, running his fingers over his mustache.

“Good, it’s my treat,” the engineer said with a warm, inviting smile. There was no judgment, no ridicule in his crystal blue eyes. With a friendly, supportive hand, Mike patted his friend on the shoulder and the two made their way towards their first morning cup of coffee.


	4. chapter 4

Warning: Strong language

Chapter 4

“Hey, Chet?” Johnny yelled across the back parking lot. The crew had just been relieved of duty by the on-coming shift, leaving the men of A-shift scattering in a hurry to reach their destinations.

The curly-haired linemen spun on his heels, staring exasperatedly at his annoying friend. “Yea?”

“You gonna talk to Caroline about the plan?”

Chet rolled his eyes at the lanky paramedic. “Yes, Gage. If you’ll lemme leave. You’re holdin’ me up just standing here askin’ a stupid question.”

Johnny closed the gap between them, flashing his lopsided grin across his chiseled face. He slapped the shorter man on his back as they both walked towards their cars. “A’right, okay. I just wanna help you and Roy out, ya know?”

Chet opened his van door, cocking his head to one side as he looked questioningly at his friend. “What are you really up to?”

Johnny backed up, his hands raised in mock surrender. “Hey, I got no agenda,” he said with a smile that failed to light up his brown eyes. Quickly, he sauntered over to his Rover, plopped his narrow hips in the driver’s seat then backed out of the parking spot without giving Chet a second glance. One thing Johnny loathed was a liar, especially when he was the one doing the lying and his friends were his target audience.

As Chet’s VW van followed John’s Rover out of the side driveway, Mike and Marco walked across the parking lot.

“How about the Pourhouse?”

Marco looked over at his engineer as they walked side by side to their respective vehicles. He was beginning to have second thoughts about his breakfast plans, but knew he needed to debrief somewhat before returning to his mother’s home. He was still keyed up from his phone call with her the previous night, and his fatigue was displayed on his tanned features, leaving his body aching from exhaustion.

“Uh, yes, that sounds good. I like their waffles,” Marco replied, hoping he sounded surer of himself than he felt.

“Alright, see ya there.” 

The two men were parting ways just as Roy exited the building. He had seen Mike and Marco talking and hoped that Mike might be getting through to their senior linemen. He recognized the stress etching itself across Marco’s face. He had seen the same tell-tale signs on his own face recently. Thankfully, he was now well-rested and he and Joanne were closer than they had been in a long time. Whatever had caused Marco to lose control yesterday, was obviously still hiding behind the man’s stern features, and Roy feared that if it wasn’t dealt with appropriately, it would surface again at some inopportune time, costing Marco his career in the fire service. Roy knew how devastating harboring such strong emotions could be, and he hoped that whatever Mike had said was exactly what Marco needed to hear.

Roy tossed his bag into the passenger’s seat of his sports car then climbed in. In a few moments, he was shifting gears as he sped into the street heading for home. His auburn hair was blowing in the wind as a smile found its way across his ruddy features. He couldn’t wait to get home and discuss Johnny’s plan with Joanne. He just hoped that she, Caroline, and Iris would all agree to the arrangement. In his heart, he knew that taking care of Corrie was just what Joanne needed, and would be more fulfilling to her than her job at the florist’s shop. Now, all he had to do was convince her. 

E!

Chet turned into the parking lot of his apartment complex, his heart increasing its tempo at the sight of Caroline’s car parked in the space beside his usual parking spot. He wanted to rush to her, but he caught a whiff of himself as he slammed his van door shut, and decided that a quick shower was in order first. He pulled his keys out of his pocket then hustled up the stairs, dropping the keys as he fumbled with the lock on his door. As he bent over to pick them up, he heard an unmistakable catcall whistle. Mouthing a silent curse, he spun around, preparing to offer a suggestive finger to the offending man, but instead saw Caroline standing in her doorway giggling at him. He felt the blush cross his face with the realization that the whistle had come from her lips and was aimed at his backside. With a sheepish grin, he gave her a slight nod.

“Breakfast?” She called out across the courtyard.

“Love to. Lemme shower.”

She wiggled her fingers in a flirty wave, then returned inside her apartment. She had plans for them today. She just hoped this time, things would work out better than on their previous encounter. She had been surprised by Charles and Mim Marks yesterday when they had called asking if they could take Corrie to San Diego for a couple of days. Chet had no idea that the two of them would be alone for his days off, and she couldn’t wait to spend some quality time with the man she loved. This morning, she was determined to say those words to him for the first time, and perhaps show him, as well.

E!

At the DeSoto residence, Joanne was putting the finishing touches on breakfast for her family when her husband came through the door. 

“Morning, sweetheart,” she said with a smile as Roy walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“What’s this?” He asked, eyeing a large breakfast of pancakes and bacon. 

“I wanted to fix you a special breakfast,” she said, leaning back into his embrace, turning off the stove.

Roy lightly kissed her exposed neck. “Mmmm, I can’t wait. I’m so hungry, but don’t you have to work today?”

“I’m going in a little later. I don’t have to be there until ten.” She spun around, wrapping her arms around his neck, their lips meeting in a tender, yet passionate kiss. 

As their lips finally parted, Joanne laid her head against the muscular chest of the man she had loved since they were children. “I love you so much, Roy. I promise, I’m going to ask Iris to cut back on my hours, or maybe hire someone else. My place is right here.”

“And mine is right here with you and the kids, too. He kissed her forehead once more, pulling her tighter as a reminder of what he had nearly thrown away not so long ago. After a few tender moments of holding her and caressing her back, he pulled away so he could look into her bright green eyes. “Baby, Johnny had a wonderful idea that I think might make everything work out for everyone involved.”

“What kind of idea?” She tilted her head to the side, staring questioningly at her husband. Joanne knew that all too often Johnny’s ideas were vexatious. 

“Well,” Roy began, tenderly brushing a few stray locks of hair away from her face. “He thought that maybe Caroline could work at the flower shop and you could provide daycare for Corrie.” His heart thudded nervously inside his chest, unsure of what Joanne might think of the idea. He watched as she stared into nothingness beside him, then felt a huge relief as a big grin spread across her face. 

“But what makes you think Caroline will want a job?”

Roy felt like kicking himself for jumping ahead in the conversation. He had forgotten to share the most important thing with her. So, as they carried their breakfast plates to the table and began eating their meal, he relayed the events of the last few days, including the bite mark on Corrie’s back. By the end of his story, he had finished eating his meal. Dropping his napkin onto his empty plate, he looked over at his wife. 

“That’s heartbreaking for both of them. Poor little Corrie; I’m so glad we never had to worry about daycare.” Joanne’s heart ached for what her friend must be feeling, needing to work and yet, not being able to trust that her child would be safe in the home of the daycare provider.

“So, will you think about it?”

Joanne’s face was beaming. “No.”

“No?” he questioned, confused by her happy face.

“Nothing to think about. If Caroline wants to do this and Iris will agree, then… Then it would be the perfect arrangement for everyone.” She leaned in for another kiss as she stood up and the two of them carried their dishes back to the kitchen.

“I’ll take care of these, sweetheart,” he said, running water into the sink and taking the empty plates from her hands, preparing to wash the dishes. He remembered all too well coming home to an empty house with empty cereal bowls stacked in the sink. He was more grateful than ever for the blessing of his family. He was indeed a lucky man, something he would never again take for granted. “You go ahead and get ready. I know it’s Saturday, so there’s no telling when the kids will wake up. I’ll feed them when they get up.”

E!

Chet looked at his reflection in his bathroom mirror, patting his damp curly hair in place. He spritzed a bit of cologne on his bare chest, so the scent would be faint, then headed for his closet. He stepped into his jeans, pulling a t-shirt over his head as he walked down the hallway. He slipped his huarache sandals on and headed out the door. He couldn’t wait to share Johnny’s idea with Caroline. He just hoped she would agree to it.

Inside her apartment, Caroline prepared two breakfast plates with eggs, bacon, and toast. She spooned a mixture of cut fruit into two bowls and poured a couple of glasses of orange juice. Just as she placed the two plates on the table, she heard the knock she had been waiting for.

“Right on time,” she whispered to herself, her face glowing.

Chet’s smile broadened when she opened the door. She looked radiant standing in the golden morning sunlight. He stepped inside, leaning down to offer her a quick kiss, but was surprised by her wrapping her arms around his neck. He had only planned a quick chaste peck on the lips, and wondered what was going through her mind. She ran her fingers through his damp hair, opening her mouth to him. When she pressed her body against his, Chet returned both her embrace and her passion. His tongue darted out tentatively, still unsure of what she wanted. Silently, he rejoiced when she returned the gesture, hearing a slight moan escape from deep inside her throat as their contact continued. When the kiss finally ended, he looked deep into her eyes, shocked by the dark desire he thought he saw there.

“Well, good morning, Ms. Marks,” he grinned.

“Good morning, Mr. Kelly,” she whispered, never releasing her arms from around his neck. “Hungry?”

His body was hungry for more than just food; his lower anatomy was responding to her close contact, and he briefly considered giving her a sexually suggestive answer to her question. However, he didn’t want to say or do anything to offend her. They seemed to be back on the right track, and the last thing he wanted to do was endanger that in any way.

“Starvin’,” he finally answered.

“Good, have a seat,” she began, breaking their physical contact and leading him over to the table. “Let me get the fruit and the juice.”

“I’ll help,” he offered, following her into the small kitchen. 

The two of them quickly returned to the table, the fruit bowls and orange juice in hand, and took their seats.

“So, how was your shift?”

“Oh, not as busy as it normally is. So, I won’t need to sleep all day,” he offered with a grin.

Their light conversation continued as they ate their breakfast. Chet had almost cleaned his plate when he looked back up at his companion. “Caroline, this is really good. Thank you so much,” he said, sincerity filling his longing blue eyes.

“You’re welcome,” she said, shrugging sheepishly. “I really like to cook. Maybe I should try to find a job in a restaurant,” she suggested, returning her attention to her bowl of fruit.

“Speaking of a job for you, Johnny had a great idea.”

“Oh yea?” She scooped a slice of banana into her spoon, looking excitedly at her friend.

“He thought that maybe you could take Joanne’s job at Bloomers and then Joanne could keep Corrie.” Chet then looked around the room, realizing that they seemed to be one person short at the breakfast table. “Hey, is Ladybug still asleep?”

“Not sure,” Caroline managed to say, swallowing her food. “But I doubt it.” She couldn’t stop the grin from overtaking her face as she watched Chet’s face contort in confusion. “She’s with her grandparents for the next two days. They called me yesterday morning wanting to take her to San Diego. I think they’re taking her to the zoo or something.”

A hint of his mischievous grin slowly crawled over his lower face. “You mean, we’re unchaperoned?” 

“Uh-huh,” she replied, her own flirty grin finding its way to the surface, lighting up her face.

“Ooohhh, so that’s why you gave me such a warm welcome, huh?”

A blush started at the base of her neck and quickly moved up, coloring her tender features. She batted her eyelashes, pushing the tears back as she reached her hand over to grasp his larger one. Then looking deeply into his eyes, she finally found the courage to express her feelings to him. “Yes, not having Corrie here did have a little something to do with it. I don’t want to set a bad example for her, but… The real reason is because…,” she squeezed his hand for emphasis. “Because I love you.”

Chet froze, his blood rushing in his ears nearly deafening him. Had he heard her correctly? “You, ah, you…” The warmth in his smile was contagious as belief finally made its way to his face. He had not misunderstood her. She had truly said the words he had been longing to hear. “You do? Ar-are you sure?”

Caroline shifted in her chair so she could look directly at him. Reaching out with her other hand, she held his larger hand in both of hers. She felt the tears springing forward and did nothing to hinder their progress as they coursed down her face. “I-I’ve never felt romantic love before and… Well, what I’m feeling now is so foreign to me… but, I know that it’s such a wonderful feeling. Since we’ve been seeing each other, all I think about when we’re apart is… is when we’ll be together again.” She could see that her words were reaching the deepest parts of his heart. Even though she was crying, the words continued to pour out. “It’s like a large part of me is missing when we’re apart. When we had the… Uh, that misunderstanding… I was so heartbroken, not by what I thought had happened, but because I missed you so much. And I’m whole again now that we’re back together. I…,” she ran her thumb across the back of his hand. “I think that’s what romantic love is, isn’t it?”

Chet lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it softly as he looked at her through his own misty eyes. “Yea, that’s exactly what it is. Caroline, I love you so much. But, please… please don’t cry?” He asked, running the back of his fingers slowly across her damp cheek. 

Caroline closed her eyes, lost in the sensual feeling of him softly wiping away her tears. Sniffling, she whispered to him. “They’re… happy… tears.”

Chet stood, pulling her upwards into his embrace. He held her close, resting his chin on the top of her head as they gently swayed from side to side. “I promise you that I will never, ever hurt you…. Or Corrie. I-I love both of you more than anything.”

Caroline relished the warmth and safety of his embrace, but now was the time to say the rest of what she wanted to tell him. She pulled away from him slightly, looking deeply into his crystal blue eyes. “You really do love me? You’re sure?”

With one hand remaining on her back, he used the other to cup the side of her face. Their eyes never broke contact, each seeing into the soul of the other. “Yes, yes, I love you more than you could ever imagine.”

Without missing a beat, Caroline licked her dry lips, then whispered to him her deepest desire. “Then show me. Please, Chet… Please show me what it’s like when two people love each other. Please make love to me.”

E!

 

Marco walked into the diner and headed for a quiet booth. Gretchen picked up a menu and was about to walk over to his table when the bell on the door jingled a second time. Looking up, she recognized the engineer whom she knew worked the same shift as Marco at 51’s. She gave him a tired smile and pulled a second menu from behind the counter, picked up a fresh pot of coffee and hurried over to the place where the two men sat.

“Good morning, fellas. Two black coffees, right?” She asked, placing the menus in front of the men as both of them turned their coffee cups over, waiting for her to pour them a fresh cup.

“Yes, ma’am.” Marco looked at his menu as he answered.

Mike managed to look up and give her a pleasant smile. “Yes, please.” 

“Okay, do you need a few minutes, or do you know what you want?” She asked, pulling out her pad and pencil.

“Waffles with bacon,” Marco responded, his voice sounding tired.

“And, I’ll have the omelet with ham, cheese, onions, and peppers,” Mike said, handing his menu back to Gretchen. 

“Onions and peppers, huh? Your girlfriend might not like that,” she said with a slight wink.

“Uh, no girlfriend, so I’m free to eat what I want,” Mike snickered, handing his menu to her.

Gretchen grinned back at the handsome engineer. Tucking the menus beneath her arm, she picked up the coffee pot, and headed back towards the counter to turn in their order to the cook.

“She seems to be relaxing a little bit,” Mike offered, his blue eyes following the retreating waitress. He remembered how uptight she had been when she first started working at the diner. Now, he was pleased to see that she was comfortable enough with them to carry on a conversation and even flirt a little. When Marco didn’t respond to his comment, Mike returned his attention back to his friend. “How about you?”

Marco continued staring into the dark liquid in his cup. Suddenly realizing that Mike was waiting for a response, he looked up. “Hmm?”

Worry lines formed along Mike’s brow. “I was wondering if you were relaxing any.”

“You mean about what happened yesterday?” Marco knew what Mike meant, but felt the need to stall while he formulated an appropriate response. He exhaled a soft sigh, clasping his hands together in front of his mouth. “I don’t know, Stoker. I-I’m having some issues at home, and I guess I brought them with me to work yesterday.”

“Well… That’s why we’re here.” Mike wasn’t sure what to say, but he knew his friend needed a listening ear. Mike had always been known as the quietest man on the shift, but that fact also made him the best listener. 

“Mike… I can only think of one thing that will help… and I don’t know how to make that happen.”

“I’m listening,” Mike said, hoping Marco would keep talking. He sensed that the older man was on the verge of revealing his problem, and Mike didn’t want to hinder him in any way. “Maybe talking about it will help.”

“Doubt it,” Marco huffed in a sarcasm-laced voice. “If the cops couldn’t help, then what can a couple of firemen do?”

Mike had no idea where their conversation was headed, but Marco was talking, and Mike wanted to keep it that way. He reached for his cup of coffee, blowing on it a little before taking a sip. “Well, you know what they say? God made firemen so cops would have heroes.”

The lineman gave a brief smile. He hadn’t felt like a hero in a very long time. He wanted more than anything to be a hero and return Lexi to their family. Then, another part of Mike’s statement stabbed him in his heart of hearts. “God. Humph. Sometimes, I think God has turned His back on me and my family.”

Mike knew that Marco’s faith was very important to him. His negative comments made Mike’s stomach drop. This was much more serious than he had previously thought.

“Shit,” Marco cursed, uncharacteristically. “I forgot to call Mama. She’ll be worried that I got held over at a fire.” He pulled himself out of the booth, fishing in his pocket for a dime as he trudged towards the wall near the restrooms where there was a pay phone. 

Mike didn’t think his friend could look any more depressed, that is, until his countenance fell when he mentioned his mother. Mike tried not to stare at the man as he made his phone call, but it was hard to move his eyes away from the down-trodden figure leaning against the wall. Marco’s shoulders appeared to be breaking beneath the weight of the world. When he noticed Marco hanging up the receiver, Mike quickly coughed into his closed fist, returning his attention to his coffee. He hoped Marco had not seen him watching while he made the private phone call. He waited for Marco to take his seat again before returning to the conversation.

“Did you put her mind at ease?” 

“Yea,” Marco huffed. “At least, as far as I’m concerned.”

Mike knew exactly what Marco meant, but it was a perfect segue back to the issue at hand. “What do you mean?

“Nothing, sorry, Stoker.”

Mike couldn’t let the conversation drop. He felt like his friend was so close to opening up to him. “You said something about God forgetting about you and your family. How so?”  
Marco hesitated, seeing Gretchen returning with their plates. He waited for her to leave before he answered Mike’s question.

“Because my family and I have been praying for my sister for five years, and there’s still no answer.” Marco reached for the syrup, pouring a generous amount on his waffles. He took a bite of his bacon, swallowing the salty crispy strip before taking a deep breath and continuing. “Mike, my baby sister, Alexia, ran away from home just before her 15th birthday. She’s nineteen now, and she’s only been home once since the night she left. She calls Mama around Mama’s birthday and Christmas, but other than that, we never hear from her.”

Mike swallowed a bite of his omelet. He was shocked by the news he had just heard. “Any idea why she left, or where she might be?”

Marco looked down again. This was the part he didn’t like to share. “She left after announcing she was pregnant. She had an older boyfriend that none of us approved of. She was sneaking out to meet him around the time that I moved out on my own, a few months before 51’s opened. She was a good Catholic girl, Mike. Then, after this guy came into her life, she refused to attend Mass, and… And she got pregnant. Remember Antonio, from the last Firefighter’s Picnic?”

“Oh, yea, your nephew, right? Cute kid,” Mike snickered, remembering how the dark-haired child had followed Marco around like a shadow all afternoon.

“Ant is her son. She literally left him on Mama’s doorstep. She just rang the doorbell and walked away.” Marco looked up, tears spilling from his eyes. “She chose that sorry bastard over her own baby, Mike.” He ran his open palm down his face, smearing the dampness. “When Mama opened the door, she caught a glimpse of Lexi getting into the guy’s car at the corner of the street. That was the last time my Mama saw her youngest child.”

“So, he was just a baby at the time?”

Marco swiped at the streaks of moisture once more. “Yea… He was just a few days old. A few weeks later, the birth certificate came in the mail. He’ll have to start school in a couple of years and… Damn it,” Marco planted his chin in his hands, trying to slow down his breathing. “He’s going to see that all the other kids have mothers…, except him. Mama thinks we’re running out of time.”

“Oh, man,” Mike sighed, struggling to comprehend what his friend was telling him. He stared at his fork momentarily, swirling a string of melted cheese, then looked up at his lineman. “Marco, I had no idea. I knew that your nephew lived with your mother, but I didn’t know why. I’m so sorry.” Mike paused, wondering if he should continue, but he felt like he was in too deep to stop now. “I hope I don’t offend you or anything, but… Do you think maybe drugs are involved?” 

“I don’t know. I’d like to think that she wouldn’t do something that stupid, but… But it seems like everything she’s done since she became a teenager has been stupid.” Marco ran a hand through his hair, frustration swirling with embarrassment rising upwards to his face. He shook his head somberly. “Mama seems to think drugs are involved, but… Ugh,” he groaned. “I don’t know. Maybe Mama’s right. I mean, why else would she do what she’s done?”

Mike kept his fork hovering over the remaining pieces of his omelet as their conversation continued. He cleared his throat, hoping that Marco would accept the offer he was about to make. “Tell me how I can help.” 

Marco once again felt the stinging begin in the backs of his eyes. He knew that Mike was sincere, but there was no way he could accept the kind of help he thought the younger man was offering. “Look, I really appreciate the offer, but…,” he hesitated a moment, gulping to force the lump in his throat back down enough that he could continue his explanation. “I’ve been searching on my off time for weeks now… I can’t ask you to…”

“You aren’t,” Mike interrupted. “I’m giving you my help. Just tell me what to do.”

Marco rubbed his temples with his fingertips while he sighed in frustration. His head was pounding, and he really wanted to do nothing more than sleep. However, he knew that sleep was hours away, if it happened at all, and he was quickly reaching the limit of his strength – both physically and emotionally. “You don’t understand, Stoker. She’s my baby sister and I love her, but you don’t know what she’s doing.”

“So tell me,” Mike pushed his friend a little harder, reaching for his coffee. He knew, based on Marco’s comment, that Alexia Lopez had not simply run away or disappeared. The Lopez family knew where she was, but for whatever reason, they had not been able to bring her back home. Questions were whirling around inside Mike’s mind. When he realized that Marco wasn’t going to give him any more information, he decided to change tactics. “Did you report her as a runaway?”

Marco could feel his anger beginning to bubble to the surface again. He knew that Mike was asking a reasonable question, and he knew he owed him a reasonable answer. He pushed his anger back into its hiding place and continued on with the conversation. “Yes, of course we did, but the cops never found her.”

“But it sounds like you might have an idea of where she is, so why don’t we just go there and I’ll help you look. Maybe together we can find her and you can convince her to return home?” 

Marco released an audible groan. He didn’t want anyone to know about her, and so far, he had been able to keep the family shame a secret. Now, he was being asked directly, and he knew he couldn’t lie to his friend. Forcing out the information, his voice cracked when he finally spoke the truth about her. “She’s a… Damn it,” he mumbled, feeling nauseated about what he was about to say. “She’s a lot lizard, Stoker.”

“A what?”

“A lot lizard,” Marco repeated. “That’s what trucker drivers call them. The last time she was seen, about six months ago, she was working a truck stop about fifty miles north of here… She’s a…,” his nostrils flared as he ground his teeth together, trying to control his emotions. Staring down at his half-eaten plate of food, unable to look at his friend, he finally managed to force the words out. “She’s a… prostitute.”

E!

Chet’s cocked twitched inside its denim confines when he heard Caroline’s remark. Gulping, his voice was merely a whisper. “Ar-are you sure?” He moved both hands to the sides of her face, caressing her soft skin and looking longingly into her watery eyes. “I do want to make love to you, baby, but not until you’re ready. Please, don’t do this because you think it’s what I want. I-I don’t want to pressure you into…”

“Ssshhh,” she crooned, placing her finger on his lips to stop his incessant rambling. “I wouldn’t have said it, if I didn’t mean it. Chet, I love you… I’m sure of it. And I want to know the physical side of love. I-I need for you to show me that… That there’s more to it than what I’ve experienced so far.” 

Chet couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This woman, the most wonderful young lady he had ever known, was telling him that she loved him, that she wanted him. He used his hands to tilt her face up to his as he lowered his lips to hers once more. “Oh sweetheart, there is more… So… much… more,” he said between kisses. He felt her arms snaking around his neck again and this time, he kissed her with a passion, a hunger like never before. His tongue licked the softness of her lips, darting out as he once again yearned to penetrate the moist cavern of her mouth. She opened up to him, using her own tongue to tangle and probe his mouth, as well. Hungrily, the kiss deepened leaving them both breathless as he sucked on her bottom lip, not wanting the contact to end. 

Slowly, with a desire burning deep within her womanhood, she looked into his blue eyes, dilated with lust. “You’ll have to tell me what to do. ‘Cause, I really don’t know and… I want to make you happy.”

He wanted to reassure her that no matter what happened in the next few hours, he would definitely be happy. However, he knew that her lack of experience was something that weighed heavily on her mind, and he wanted nothing more than to relieve her uneasiness. “Caroline, we’ll take it very slowly and… And we’ll do whatever feels good for both of us, okay?” He saw her eyes becoming moist again as she nodded her agreement. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

Chet kissed her forehead quickly, his hands remaining cupped around her face. “Please promise me that you’ll talk to me. We’ve got to learn each other’s likes and dislikes and the only way we’re gonna know is to communicate. Please, promise me that if I do something you don’t like, or you don’t feel comfortable with, that you’ll tell me. Don’t be embarrassed, just tell me, alright? Because I want to give you the most mind blowing orgasm ever.”

Caroline sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. She wanted to tell him that if she managed to achieve an orgasm, it would blow her mind. But, somehow, she figured he knew that a sexual climax was something she had never experienced before and she truly trusted him to guide her gently through this experience. “Um, ‘k. And you tell me, too. Tell me how to touch you and what to do and…,”

“Ssshhh,” he grinned, placing a finger lightly on her lips, just like she had done to him earlier. “Baby, I’m hard as a brick right now just holding you and talking about making love. I just hope I don’t cum before we get to the bedroom,” he groaned, pressing his forehead to hers, forcing his breathing to calm down.  
That comment brought a chuckle to Caroline, relaxing them both. She gave him one more hug, then allowed her arms to slide down his arms, intertwining their fingers. “Is now a good time?”  
“No time like the present,” he said, allowing her to lead him towards her bedroom. “Oh, um, lemme make a quick trip upstairs. I need to get a condom.”

“I kept the two you left here before,” she said, her voice more gravelly than he had ever heard it. 

“Ohmygod, this is really happenin’, isn’t it?” He mumbled to himself as he followed her down the hallway to her bedroom.

Once inside, Caroline began pulling back the burgundy bedspread, revealing the crisp pink sheets beneath. She began fluffing up the pillows, her heart skipping a beat when she heard Chet lower his zipper. She knew he was getting undressed, and suddenly she became extremely nervous. Would he find her attractive? What about the scars on her back from the surgery following the accident? Could he look past those and see her inner beauty? Would he still want to continue a relationship with her after she gave herself to him? Suddenly, fingers on her shoulders startled her, and she couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped from her lips.

“You’re nervous, I get that.”

She turned around, her eyes bulging at the site of a nearly naked Chet. He was standing so near to her that she could hear his breathing. Gulping, she tentatively reached up, slowly caressing his naked chest, running her fingers through his dark curly chest hair. She heard a definite groan, felt the rumble deep in his chest as her pink painted fingernails slowly slid upwards.

“Mmmm,” he hummed, enjoying the tactile stimulation she was providing.

He reached out, grasping her fingers and halting her upward progress. He could feel her trembling. “Baby, that feels so good. I don’t want you to stop, but if we don’t slow down, this is gonna be over way too quickly.” He brought her hand up to his mouth, tenderly kissing it. “This first time, it’s all for you.”

Caroline’s heart began pounding in her chest as he slowly reached out, unbuttoning her blouse. He started at the top, never letting his eyes leave hers as he peeled open the pale yellow material. Her white bra was gently rising and falling as her breathing quickened. Doing his best not to rush the moment, Chet carefully brushed the garment off of her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor as he took in the silkiness of her skin, running his fingers over her soft shoulders. Tenderly, he lowered his face to hers, opening his mouth for the contact. As the kiss deepened, he pushed her hair back away from her left ear and softly whispered into it.

“Are you okay?”

Caroline’s head was spinning with the sensual flood. She felt his hot breath along her cheekbone, then heard his concerned whisper. “Yes,” she responded, running her own hands over his biceps as his fingers skimmed the flesh of her back in search of her bra clasp. Her breath hitched as he succeeded at the task of unfastening it, completely exposing her back to his touch. Her lips sought out his as she lowered her arms enough to allow the undergarment to fall to the floor between them.

Chet pulled her into a warm embrace. It had been such a long time since he had experienced carnal pleasure, and the feel of her naked breasts against his hairy chest was nearly his undoing. His cock was aching, pressing against his boxer shorts. He knew she could feel his erection, but there was no embarrassment or shame about what they were doing. He didn’t feel any sense of urgency to relieve his throbbing member. No, not this time, and not with this woman. His desire was to make her feel loved, appreciated, adored; to feel special for perhaps the first time in her life. He wanted to give her something no one else ever had, and it didn’t matter how physically uncomfortable it made him feel in the process. Even though it had been a very long time since he had found sexual fulfillment, he was in no hurry. His one and only desire was to please the woman he currently held in his arms, and he knew that the only way for her to find her release was to proceed very slowly. She needed to be relaxed and comfortable with him, and he intended to make that happen.

He fisted his left hand in her hair as he nuzzled her neck, kissing and licking his way down to her clavicle. He could still feel her trembling, but hoped it was happening more out of arousal than anxiety. He stroked her back with his right hand and continued nibbling on her flesh, sensing her enjoyment by the way she toyed with his curly hair with her own hands. Then, his right hand began a gingerly paced trek from her back, across her ribcage, then headed upwards until he grasped the soft mound of her left breast in his hand. Tenderly, he kneaded the silky flesh, running his thumb across her nipple, feeling the nub harden from his ministrations. Another soft moan escaped from her lips, and he pulled his head back enough to look into her hooded eyes.

“Do you like for me to touch you like this?”

“Uh-huh. That feels so… So amazing,” she panted. The sensation of his touch went straight from her breast to her sex. The tingling moistness between her legs made her yearn for more. Forgetting her previous worries, she leaned her head back, exposing more of her neck to him. 

Chet continued to provide her breast with stimulation, then switched hands, giving her right breast the same treatment. He was pleased by her responses to him and slowly lowered his head until he was able to suckle her nipple.

“Arrgh,” she groaned, pulling his head into her chest tighter. 

He continued to lick and suck both of her nipples until she was writhing, her knees weakening. He carefully worked his way back up her body as he slowly walked them towards the bed. “Let’s lie down, alright?”

“Yes,” she heaved, nearly falling backwards onto the bed. 

Chet surveyed the half-naked form lying beside him, his eyes soaking in the sight with the appreciation of a starving man at a feast. “Oh, Caroline… You are so beautiful,” he crooned as his fingers lightly stroked her breasts once more. He found her lips again, their tongues dancing with each other as his hand began its journey across her abdomen. She wasn’t as thin as most of the young women he had dated, but that didn’t matter. It seemed to make her more real. She had delivered a baby, and he neither expected nor wanted her to be skinny. There was a slight pooch beneath her navel as he continued moving lower until his fingers reached the top of her hip-hugger shorts. Unsure of her reaction, he continued the journey outside of her clothing, reaching down and rubbing her between her legs.

“Ugh, gah,” she panted, unable to stop herself from parting her thighs slightly, allowing him better access as he reached deeper and with more pressure. Her fingers slowly stroked his bare back, her fingernails digging in just enough for him to feel the arousing scraping sensation. 

His manhood brushed against her thigh, longing to be set free from his pale blue boxers. For the first time in his life, he was glad that so far she hadn’t touched him there. He needed no more stimulation at the moment. Chet nipped and licked his way along her neck, her jawline, and around to her ear once more. “I want to… I need to touch you,” he whispered. Then, raising up on one elbow, he looked into her eyes. “Is it okay if I… If I take off your shorts, now?”

Her breath hitched in her throat as she considered his question. Without a verbal response, she slid her left hand between them, carefully releasing the side zipper of her white cotton shorts. Her eyes stayed fixed on his, enjoying the lustful look on his face. Finally, with the zipper completely undone, she nodded her agreement to his question.

Chet lowered his lips to hers again, tasting her once more, before raising up on his knees. He positioned himself above her, allowing his tongue and lips to leave a trail of white hot kisses down her sternum, giving each breast the attention it deserved, before sucking gently on each nipple. He continued his trail of kisses downward, using his fingers to blaze the way. When his fingertips reached the loose band of her shorts, he looked back up before going any further. He needed to make sure she was okay with what they were doing. Seeing her naked breasts heaving in heavy pants, and her eyes closed, he dipped his fingers inside the band of her shorts, pushing past the lacy panties, until he felt the wiry curls of her sex. He raised back up, sitting back on his heels, and with trembling hands, he carefully removed her shorts and panties. Her scent was intoxicating to him and he wanted more than anything to take her now, hard and fast. But, he had more control over himself than that, and so, he dropped her clothing over the edge of the bed, then ran his hands up the outside of her hips, soaking in his first look at her completely nude form.

“Caroline, you are more beautiful than I even imagined,” he rasped, wetting his dry lips. “Please, open your eyes for me.”

Blinking, Caroline opened her eyes, looking into the face of the man she loved, and surprisingly, she felt no shame in her nakedness. She ran her hands up his arms, across his shoulders, and into his thick curly hair, smiling inwardly at the way he responded to her touch. She wanted to touch him more, everywhere, but was too unsure of herself to actually do it. 

“That’s it, Baby. I want you to see that it’s me touching you. And, I want to see you when you cum.”

She pressed her lips tightly, as she ran her fingers down the side of his face. “I-I don’t know if I can.”

Sensing her anxiety level rising again, he kissed her quickly on the tip of her nose. “Sweetheart, I love you more than I have ever loved anyone in my life. But I need to know something… And please be honest with me, alright?”

“I will,” she agreed, not knowing what it was he wanted from her.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course, I do.”

He kissed her again, this time on her lips. When he pulled back, he nearly exploded inside his boxer shorts. Memories of their previous conversation about what her parents had taught her about sex flooded his brain. “Then please, don’t hold back. Talk to me; tell me what feels right, and what doesn’t. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you, no matter what it is. Just, please relax and enjoy this without a second thought about me, not this time, okay?”

She nodded, opening her mouth to give him the verbal assurance he seemed to need, but his mouth clamped down on hers before she could get the words out. Their tongues met again, dueling for supremacy, each giving and taking from the other. She felt his fingers creeping down her belly, leaving a trail of tingling flesh in their wake as they headed for her sex. When they finally reached their destination, she once again parted her thighs slightly, wanting more from him, even though she wasn’t sure what it was she needed. When he ran his middle finger down the center of her womanhood, gently parting her lower lips and dipping inside, she groaned into his open mouth with a pleasure like none she had ever known. She felt him smearing her juices back up around her clitoris, her body involuntarily twitching as he ran his finger over the excited nub.

“Aaugh,” she cried out, pulling her lips away from his. She needed to draw in a deep breath, to calm the fire that was raging inside her. Again, she felt him dip his finger inside her, probing deeper this time, while his tongue swirled around her earlobe. “Gah, uhh,” she panted, unable to form any intelligible words.

Chet continued his ministrations, willing his own body not to respond to the writhing panting beauty lying beneath him. Controlling his own orgasm was going to be the most difficult thing he had ever tried to do, but do it he must. This was for her, the love of his life. In and out, up and swirl, over and over, he continued until he knew she was on the brink. She was trembling, digging her fingernails into his arms, panting as a light sheen of perspiration blanketed her face and chest. Slowly, he positioned one knee between her legs, spreading them wider apart. She didn’t resist him like he thought she might. Instead, it was as if she knew exactly what he needed, what they both needed. He felt her fingers stroke slowly down his ribcage, much as he had done to her earlier. Silently, he begged for her to continue, needing to feel her touch him in his most intimate places. He released an audible gasp when she dug into the waistband of his boxers allowing her nails to drag across his bare ass cheeks, then pulling down his boxers, finally freeing his meaty member.

“Chet?”

“Ye-ea,” he struggled to say, wanting to feel her grasping his aching cock. “Ohmygod, Baby… Please,” he groaned, opening his eyes and looking deeply into hers. “Please, touch me. I-I want to feel your fingers around my… Aauugh, yea… Yea, jus’ like that.”

Caroline somehow sensed what he needed and wanted. She reached between his legs, stroking his balls with her fingers before wrapping them around his thick hot shaft. Fear suddenly stopped her movements, and she struggled to catch her breath.

Chet, lost in the sensation of his member being stroked, knew immediately what was wrong when she suddenly stopped. Without asking any questions, he slowly removed his boxers, kicking them off the end of the bed, then removed his knee from between her legs, and lay down beside her. “It’s okay, Baby. It’s okay. It won’t be like the first time. I promise, it won’t hurt and…,” he stroked her cheek, kissing her temple, and you won’t get pregnant.” He continued to stroke her hair, his gentle touch soothing away her worries and concerns. “Do you want to stop?” He asked, knowing that if she did, he would, but he really wanted to continue on. He needed to be inside of her more than he needed his next breath.

“No, just… Just please go slow, alright?” Her voice nearly cracked as she remembered the last time she was in this position, naked with a man. Even though it was a man she cared for deeply, he had not been gentle in his drunken state, and the experience had been less than pleasant. She had repeatedly told herself that this time would be different, but that was before she and Chet had actually gotten this far. Yet, something burned inside her. His touch had awakened a desire that she had never known. She swallowed hard, looking up at the man she loved. “I need this, Chet. I-I need you.”

Chet nodded, feeling a confidence like none he had ever felt before. He kissed her deeply once more, then pushed himself into a sitting position. “Where are they?”

“In the top drawer of the nightstand,” she said, knowing he was looking for the condoms. This was it. This was the moment she had waited years for. She watched as he carefully tore open the metallic package, rolling the thin membrane over his rock-hard cock. Once it was in place, she licked her lips, allowing her knees to gently part. 

Chet positioned himself on his knees between her thighs. Holding himself up with one hand, he grasped his manhood at the base and carefully guided it to her dripping opening. Finding her entrance, he released his hold on himself, using his elbow to prop himself up, and his free hand to gently caress her face. “Please look at me, baby.” When she acquiesced, he pushed his hips forward slightly, amazed at the tightness he felt. Again and again, he kissed her passionately, his tongue mimicking the slow methodical movement of his cock as he inched his way inside her. He felt her tense then relax beneath him as he ventured deeper and deeper inside her hot love tunnel, watching for any signs of distress. With each gentle movement, her smile grew, lighting up her face as he finally buried himself to the hilt.

“Oh-uh, oh jeezus, Caroline,” he groaned in ecstasy. He waited for her to give him some signal that she was ready, allowing her body time to accommodate his intrusion. Then, looking deeply into her eyes, he saw them darken with a need like he had never witnessed before. He felt her slowly shift her hips upwards, curling them as if trying to pull him deeper inside her. As she moved, he also began his slow rhythmic movements, allowing her to set the pace, to find what she needed to reach the ultimate goal. 

Her upward thrusts became more aggressive, pressing her heels into the backs of his calves for more leverage. Skin slapped against skin as they picked up the pace; each one groaning and moaning as they sought the fulfillment of the other. Chet bowed his back enough to suckle her breast as he continued stroking her love tunnel. He bit down on her nipple slightly, spurred on when she arched her back, pushing her breast even harder against his open mouth. He tried to slow the pace, needing to make sure that she climaxed before he did, but she met him thrust for thrust, groan for groan, digging her nails into his ass as she pulled his hips harder into her, urging him to slam into her at a frenzied pace. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer, and so he cupped her head in both of his hands and began his softly whispered reminder.

“Let go, Baby. I’ve got you. It’s okay, just let it go and cum for me,” he encouraged her, looking down at her beautiful face and mottled decolletage, contorting as she neared her climax.

“Che-Chet,” she panted, continuing the pace. “I- I thin… I think I… AARrruuugh,” she called out, her body convulsing as her body tried to curl around her midsection. The ripples of her orgasm tore through her body, as spasm after glorious spasm overtook her. Through it all, she felt her lover holding her, encouraging her to ride the waves of pleasure, assuring her that he was there to catch her as she drifted back to earth. Before she could catch her breath, she felt his cock bulge even more as he thrust deeply, stretching her, filling her completely, before he too, threw his head back in a guttural throaty groan, his nuts contracting causing his cock to pulse and twitch inside of her as he then rode the waves of his own orgasm. As his toes curled, he fisted her hair, relishing the feeling of her squeezing him tightly with her arms and her womanhood, returning the favor by holding him until he finally plunged back to earth.

Breathless, he slowly withdrew from her, rolling over onto his side, yet never losing physical contact with her. “Ca-ugh…, Caroline,… sweetheart, I’ve never…,”

“Ssshhh,” she crooned. “Catch your breath.”

After a few more deep breaths, he raised up on one elbow, caressing the side of her face, using his fingers to push away a small rivulet of sweat running down from her forehead. He saw her eyes mist over and immediately grew concerned that he had gotten too carried away. “Oh no, oh Baby, did I hurt you? Damn it, geez, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to….”

“No… No, Chet,” she interrupted. “Just like before, these are happy tears. Thank you. Thank you for showing me what it can be like when two people are in love.”

He leaned down closer to her face, using his lips to dry her tears. “I do love you… And I want to show you again and again, sweetheart. This is just the beginning.”

E!

A/N: Thank you everyone for reading this story and for the support I have felt while writing this series.


	5. chapter 5

Chapter 5

Marco couldn’t stop the yawn that stretched his face as he pulled the cake out of his mother’s oven. He removed the oven mitts, testing the corners of the rectangular cake to see if they would spring back beneath his touch, then rubbed his weary eyes. Satisfied that the cake was done, he pushed the metal pan to the back of the stove. He didn’t want to risk his nephew burning himself if he happened to touch the hot pan. 

“Mmmm, that smells delicious.”

Marco turned around to see his closest sibling standing in the doorway of the kitchen. “Thanks, Carlos.”

The younger Lopez brother placed his fingers in the back pockets of his jeans as he sauntered over to the stove where Marco stood somberly. “I take it you haven’t had any luck in your search either, huh?”

Marco shook his head, looking back at the cake to avoid eye contact. “I’ve been lurking around every truck stop within a 75 mile radius on my days off. I’m surprised I haven’t been arrested for loitering. I’ve seen plenty of girls, but… But not her.”

Carlos pulled out a chair from the table, taking a seat, and gesturing for his older brother to join him. “You know I agree with what you’re doing, right?”

“Yes, I know. And I appreciate that. I just wish our brothers agreed with us,” Marco huffed, resting his weary body for a few moments.

“Rafael is busy. He’s doing so well at UCLA; I don’t want anything to interfere with his studies, especially when he’s only one semester away from graduating.”

Marco grimaced. Alexia should be finishing up her freshman year in college, just as Rafael was completing his senior year. Instead, she never even finished high school, as far as anyone knew. “And Cristobal?”

Carlos leaned forward, looking around to make sure that their mother wasn’t within hearing range. “He’s our brother, my twin, and I love him, Marco, but he’s… He’s so ashamed of her that I think he’s written her off.”

“He’s giving up on her? She’s our baby sister. How can he do that?” Marco felt his tanned face reddening with anger.

“He thinks she can just quit anytime she wants.” Carlos leaned back in his seat, his dark hair falling into his face. He brushed it away, waiting for Marco to tell him he needed a haircut. When the admonishment from his older brother didn’t happen, he continued. “He just doesn’t get it.”

“Are you still with me on this?”

“Of course I am,” the younger man agreed. “I’ve been searching, too. Not as much as you have, but I haven’t seen anything.” He ran a nervous hand through his hair. “Juanita is getting frustrated with me. She’s… I think she’s starting to think I’m cheating on her.”

“Ugh,” Marco exclaimed. “I was afraid of that. Look, don’t let this ruin your marriage.” He hesitated, not knowing if he should tell his brother about Mike’s offer of assistance. However, if Marco was going to be left to search without Carlos’ help, then he would need an additional set of eyes and, so far, Mike was the only one of his friends who knew of his family secret. Inhaling deeply, he proceeded. “Listen, I’ve, ah… I’ve told a friend of mine what’s going on and… And he’s offered to help out in the search. If you need to back off to take care of your family and your marriage, then I understand.”

Carlos stared at the orange and yellow plastic placemats on the table; the same ones that had adorned the table back when Lexi still lived here. With watery eyes, he returned his gaze to his older brother. “I… I feel like I’m abandoning my little sister, Marco. I don’t want to do that. I can’t do it. But… But I can’t lose my wife and kids, either,” he said, his voice fraying like a weakened rope with his emotional tug-of-war. 

Marco reached out, grasping the trembling hand of his younger brother. “I’ll keep looking… Until the day I die, I’ll keep looking. I don’t have a wife and kids, Carlos. You do. Don’t lose the happiness you’ve found with Juanita and the children for the uncertainty of finding Lexi. I won’t think any less of you, my brother.” Marco struggled with the words, but he meant them from his heart. Carlos, his younger brother by two years, had been his only sibling who agreed to help him in the search. Both of them believed that their sister was being influenced by something other than sound reasoning. There was no way that she was emotionally healthy if she was choosing to live her current lifestyle. But what was causing her poor decision-making? Was it drugs, as their mother suspected, or was it something even more sinister?

Carlos squeezed the rugged hand that held his own. He had always looked up to Marco, even when they were just kids. Now, his older brother saved lives and property for a living. In the eyes of Carlos Lopez, Marco was truly the most amazing man he knew. Hearing that Marco wouldn’t lose respect for him if he bowed out of the search, at least for a little while, was exactly what he needed to hear. He released his grip on the older man’s hand, then swiped his eyes, removing the moisture that was pooling in the   
corners. “Thanks, I love you, man.”

“I love you, too. Now, are you going to help me decorate Mama’s birthday cake, or just help us eat it?”

“Are you kidding? You know Juanita doesn’t even let me in my own kitchen,” he snickered. “I’ll go help the ladies look after the little ones while we wait for Cristobal and Rafael.” 

He stood up, briefly hugging his older brother, then returning to the front room and out the door. The women were visiting on the front porch while the children played in the front yard. Carlos felt ready to face them, feeling that his personal crisis had been resolved. Now, if only his broken family could be so easily repaired.

E!

Chet lay back on the pillow with his left arm crooked behind his head. Caroline lay sleeping on his chest, his right arm holding her close by his side. He stared at the ceiling, thinking back on how differently this morning had been from what he had expected of his off day. His mind relived their love-making session, his lower anatomy filling with the memories. Slowly, he caressed the soft skin of her arm, smiling at the faint lady-like snoring sounds she made in her sleep. He didn’t want to wake her. He knew that taking care of a toddler all day kept her worn out. He was glad to see her resting, especially since she was snuggled up to his chest in their current state of undress. 

He thought about the look on her face when he had returned to the bedroom after cleaning himself up after their activities. She had been sitting on the side of the bed with the sheets pulled around her, reaching for her clothing.

“Going somewhere?”

She looked at him with a startled look of disbelief. “Um, n-no. I just thought I’d get dressed since we’re, uh, we’re done.” She hesitated, biting her lower lip in that way that drove him wild. “Are we done?”

He grinned, pulling back the covers and scooting over close enough to caress her bare back, propping himself up on one elbow. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m afraid I’m done. At least for a little while longer.” When she bent down for her bra, he reached out holding onto her arm. “Please, Caroline… Please lay back down with me for a few minutes. I-I really need to hold you… Please?”

The sparkle had returned to her eyes when she rolled over and snuggled in closely to his side.

“There… You fit just perfectly right here,” he crooned, kissing the top of her head as she lay it down on his shoulder. He pulled her tightly into a hug, pleased when she began running her fingers across his hairy chest. “That was beautiful, Baby. I’ve never imagined that it could be like this.”

“I knew it would be good with you, but… Honestly, it was much more than I was even hoping for. I do love you, Chester B.” She felt the stinging in the back of her throat as he used the crook of his finger to lift her chin up and kiss her. When the kiss ended, she smiled and curled into him once again. 

“I love you, too. More than you can ever know,” he whispered, continuing to caress her soft curls. They remained there, their bodies intertwined for several long moments. Chet felt her body slowly going limp and her breathing evening out. He smiled to himself, thankful that she felt comfortable enough to fall asleep in his arms, and that she trusted him enough to remain with him in a vulnerable position. He wouldn’t violate that trust. He vowed to hold her as long as she slept, grateful for the time they had shared, and hoping for many more wonderful encounters.

He was brought back from his musings by her soft mewling sound, and a sudden snort which jolted her awake. 

She looked around, lost for a moment then hugged him tightly as she became more aware of her surroundings. “Sorry,” she groaned, embarrassed by her noisy awakening.

“Sorry for what?” He smiled, hugging her back. “For giving me the best welcome home I’ve ever had?”

“No,” she countered, leaning up on her elbow so she could see directly into his blue eyes. “For falling asleep on you.”

“I enjoyed snuggling with you and… And I’m glad you felt comfortable enough with me to fall asleep.”

“You make me feel something I’ve never felt before,” she said sincerely.

With a mischievous grin, he smirked back at her. “Yea, so you told me.”

“No, not that… Well, okay, yea, that too, but… You make me feel… Safe and protected,” she offered, her eyes darting away from his face.

Chet pushed her mussed up hair out of her face, needing to look into her eyes. “Caroline, as long as I have breath in me, I’ll lay down my life for you and ladybug,” he whispered, raising his head off the pillow and using his lips to seal his profession of love as they once again embarked on another romantic interlude.

E!

Joanne walked in the backdoor of Bloomers, excited and nervous about discussing Johnny’s plan with Iris. She kneeled down, placing her purse in the cabinet beneath the work area as she considered how to broach the subject with her employer.

“Hi there.”

Joanne’s head popped up from behind the cabinet. “Oh, hello, Iris.” She stood up, pressing out the wrinkles in her cotton blouse. “I didn’t see you standing there.”

Iris smiled warmly at Joanne, stifling a giggle at her nervous appearance. She thought she knew what was coming, but forced herself to keep a neutral look on her face. The last thing she wanted to do was to give away the secret that she and Johnny had agreed on. 

“Oh, I was just walking a customer out the front door as you were coming in the back,” Iris explained.

Joanne looked around the empty florist’s shop. “Um, since no one is here right now, do you mind if we talk for a minute?”

“Of course I don’t mind. Is there something wrong?” The older woman feigned ignorance as she sat on a stool beside the counter. She knew Joanne was going to suggest that her friend take her job, and Iris was fighting with everything within her to keep the smile off of her face.

“Well, no… Nothing’s wrong. I mean, I really enjoy working here and all, but… Well, see… I have this friend,” she stammered, finally getting to the subject of the impending conversation. She also took a seat at the work table and began nervously twisting green floral tape around her index finger. “She’s… She’s a single mom. Her husband was killed in Vietnam. Anyway, she really needs a job and since I was only wanting to work part-time, while the kids were in school, and since you need someone to help more than that...,” Joanne was suddenly shocked at the green lump of tape surrounding her finger. Quickly, she began unwinding it, appalled that she had unintentionally wasted the tape out of nervousness. “Um, sorry,” she said, eyeing Iris sheepishly. “I was just wondering if, maybe, she could have my job here and then I could keep Corrie for her while she worked?”  
Iris cleared her throat, more to prevent the smirk from being firmly planted across her lips. “Ahem… I see… Are you unhappy here?” She chided herself a bit, knowing she was making this conversation even more difficult for the younger woman, but she also needed to appear to be giving the idea some thought. 

Joanne nearly choked on her dry tongue when she heard Iris’ question. “No, no way. I-I’m very happy here, but… I really feel like my place is at home with Roy and the kids, and I know you need someone to work more hours than I really would like to work.” She gritted her teeth, hoping she wasn’t sounding ungrateful.

Iris’ cocked her head to one side, choosing her words carefully. “Forgive my forwardness, Joanne, but… Has this job caused problems at home?”

Joanne gulped, batting her eyelashes rapidly as her eyes began to sting. “Um, a little… At first, but… But, now everything is going much better and… And I really need to be… No, I want to be at home.”

Iris reached out, patting her employee on the shoulder. “Then it sounds like this is a great plan for everyone,” she offered, reassuringly. “Why don’t you tell your friend to give me a call and we’ll arrange a start date for her.”

“Oh wow, that’s great. Thank you, Iris. Thank you so much. She’ll be a really good worker and… And I’ll train her myself and…”

“It’s okay, Joanne. I don’t mind doing that, but if she wants to come in for a couple of hours one day for you to go over things with her, then I can make the deliveries while you do that. She can even bring her daughter with her. She can bring a few toys and play in the back room for a little while so you can show… Uh, what’s her name?”

“Caroline.”

“Caroline… So you can show Caroline around,” Iris explained, glad she hadn’t allowed Caroline’s name to slip out. Of course, Johnny had given her the details and so she knew about whom Joanne was referring immediately. She pushed a stray lock of graying hair out of her face, smiling at the relief in Joanne’s voice and mannerisms.

“Oh, thank you, Iris. Thank you so much for understanding,” Joanne said, jumping up from her perch on her stool and rushing to the telephone. “I’m gonna call Roy now, so he can let Chet know, and then I’ll…,” she hesitated, holding the telephone receiver in her hand as she stared at the rotary dial. Slowly, she turned around and looked at Iris, who was pulling a bucket of greenery out of the cooler. Joanne returned to face the telephone, listening as the dial tone droned in her ears. Something wasn’t right. The name she had given Iris for Caroline’s child was a name normally associated with males. Her thoughts were spinning wildly in her mind as she slowly dialed her home telephone number. How did Iris Campbell know that Corrie was a girl?

 

E!

By late afternoon, Mike had finished his laundry, his dishes, and was sitting back with a beer in one hand and a bag of pretzels in the other. His feet were resting on his ottoman and his eyes were glued to his small television set. He was an avid fan of spaghetti westerns and this afternoon’s movie was ‘Hannie Caulder.’ 

“Daaammmn, Raquel,” he drawled to himself, sipping his beer. “You are one foxy lady.” He admired the dark features and shapely body of Raquel Welch as much as any other red-blooded man on earth. He continued to watch the western for a few more minutes until the actress’s character was attacked and violated by three bank robbers. His stomach lurched as he thought of Alexia Lopez possibly enduring a similar fate – repeatedly. He knew some of the risks associated with prostitution, having been on several calls where the women were injured by the men paying for their services.

“Damn it,” he mumbled, running his hand through his light brown hair as he got up and turned off the television set. He couldn’t stomach the scene, nor could he tolerate inaction on his part. He tipped up the bottle of beer, swallowing the last of the yeasty amber liquid, then tossed the empty bottle into the garbage can. He picked up the phone, quickly thumbing through the phone book in search of Mrs. Lopez’ number. He had to contact Marco and make arrangements to begin their combined efforts in the search for Alexia Lopez. 

E!

The Lopez family was sitting on the front porch, celebrating the birthday of the matriarch of the family. Marco managed to smile as he watched his nieces and nephews messily enjoying the fruits of his labor; the chocolate frosting he had carefully made by hand was smeared on more than one cherubic little face. It was times like this when Marco missed two people so badly it hurt. He had been twenty-one when they had lost Emilio Lopez, his father. He wished the man had lived to see his grandchildren, to know that Marco had followed in his footsteps as a fireman, deciding to apply to the academy as a result of his father’s death. The older Firefighter Lopez had been killed in an automobile accident, seemingly having fallen asleep after battling a wildfire in the northern part of the state. Alexia Lopez had only been a little girl at the time. He could still see her, hair in a long dark braid, big dark eyes melting with tears as he told her that Papa was never coming home again. Something innocent inside her was lost that morning, and as she grew older, she grew more and more defiant. Now, he feared he may have lost her forever.

“MARCO!”

“Wha-huh?” Marco’s head jerked up in the direction of the shout. He locked eyes with his youngest brother, Rafael. Both men knew what he had been thinking.

“Telephone,” the young man called out from the opened front door.

“Oh,” he mumbled, setting his half-eaten cake on the plant stand beside him. He stood up, walking briskly past his sibling, and picked up the telephone receiver resting beside the cradle of the phone on the small table in the foyer. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, man, did I catch you at a bad time?” Mike knew that today was Mrs. Lopez’ birthday, and he hoped he wasn’t interrupting the celebration.

“No, we’re done. Just finished eating Mama’s cake. So, is something wrong?” 

Mike pressed his lips tightly together. Of course something was wrong. Marco’s sister was out walking the streets, selling herself for a few dollars and endangering her life in the process. He swallowed back the bile that seemed to be steadily creeping up the back of his throat. “Uh, well, I… I was wondering if… Do you want to get together tonight and go looking for her?”

Marco crossed an arm over his chest, pinning his fingers within the opposite armpit. He quickly turned his back to the open front door, not wanting anyone else in his family to overhear the conversation. “Stoker, are you sure you want to get involved in this? It’s a very dark underworld that you’ve only seen a glimpse of on the job.”

The engineer’s mind replayed the images of Raquel Welch’s character being assaulted. If anything similar was happening to Alexia Lopez, even if money was being exchanged, then he definitely wanted to get involved. “Yea… I do, and I know what I’m getting into. Just… Just let me help you, okay?”

A whirlpool of emotions were swirling together in Marco’s mind; gratefulness that he had a friend like Mike Stoker; dread for what he would be introducing his coworker to, out on the seedy streets; relief that he would have someone he trusted to share his burden, now that Carlos wasn’t going to be helping anymore; and, shame at the life his sister was living, even if her decisions were not her own as his mother believed. He swallowed hard, pushing the lump in his throat back down in order to speak again. “Okay, um, I’ll come over to your place in a couple of hours. We need to discuss a few things before we start. And Mike?”

“Yea?”

“Thank y-you.” Marco never stumbled over his words, but his friend was offering a gift that he never thought he would receive, never thought he would allow someone else to give. He was offering to help find Alexia Lopez and hopefully bring her home. His emotions had been very near the surface for the last few weeks, and now they were threatening to break loose, again. He couldn’t finish expressing his gratitude, but the two simple words he had speaken had been received loud and clear by the man on the other end of the line.

“You’re welcome, amigo,” Mike spoke up, hearing the soft sniffle on the other end of the line.

“Ahem,” Marco cleared his throat. “I’ll, uh… I’ll see you in a while.”

“I’ll be here. Bye.”

Mike hung up the phone and blew out his breath. He had no idea what he had just gotten himself into, but a brother needed his help, and he was more than willing to give it to him. He just hoped that their combined efforts wouldn’t be in vain.


	6. Chapter 6

Warning: strong language

Chapter 6 

Chet nearly stumbled into his apartment, trying to rush to the ringing telephone. He had spent most of the day with Caroline and now needed to shower and shave before he took her out for dinner and a movie. Assuming that she had forgotten to tell him something before he left her apartment just a minute before, he snickered as he picked up the receiver.

“Miss me already, Babe?”

On the other end of the line, Roy’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Yes, darling. It’s been a very long eight hours since I saw you at the station.”

Chet rolled his eyes, wishing he could somehow take back the words. “Ugh, DeSoto. I, um… I thought you were Caroline callin’ me.”

“No, but I’m assuming that you’ve been in the company of Caroline and Corrie which explains why I haven’t been able to get you on the phone all day,” Roy admonished, smiling into the phone. It was great to know that Chet seemed to have finally found happiness.

Chet leaned against the wall in his kitchen, a satiated smile warming his face. “Actually, Corrie’s with her grandparents for a couple o’ days so it’s just been Caroline and me.” Chet didn’t want to say any more than that. He had too much respect for Caroline. 

Roy understood the unspoken message, and a hint of a blush crossed his pale round face. “Ohhh…. Um, I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I wanted to let you know that Iris agreed to the plan. Caroline can start at Bloomers on Monday and Jo will keep Corrie. That is, if Caroline agreed to the arrangement.”

Chet wanted to jump up and down in his apartment, but didn’t want to perturb his downstairs neighbor. “Oh, man. Roy, that’s great news. Yes… Yes, she loved the idea. I can’t wait to tell her that it’s all worked out.”

“Good, Joanne will call her with the details tomorrow. I don’t want to keep you from your, uh… activities,” he said laughing.

 

“Yea, um…,” Chet couldn’t think of an appropriate response. Any other time, he would have been the first one to make some snide sexual remark, but that was before Caroline came into his life. Now, he saw the world in a completely different way. “I’ll see ya at the station. Oh, and thanks again, Roy.”  
“No problem, I like the plan, too, you know.” Roy hung up the phone turning around and grinning at his wife.  
“Roy DeSoto, are you blushing?”   
“Yea, maybe,” he said in a hushed tone as he sauntered over to Joanne. He smiled wickedly as he wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. “Chet and Caroline have been together all day – unsupervised by a certain toddler,” he whispered into her ear.

Joanne smiled wrapping her arms around his neck and purring to him in response. “Mmmm, that sounds like fun.”

“Mommie, I’m thir… Ewww, that’s gross!” Jennifer remarked as her parents’ kiss halted her in her tracks. “Don’t you guys ever do anything besides kiss anymore?”

Roy snickered as he released Joanne from his embrace. He was eternally grateful that their marriage had not only survived their recent difficulties, but now their physical relationship seemed more satisfying than ever. Their eyes met briefly and he knew she was giving him a ‘don’t you dare’ warning. He smiled at her again as he spun around. “Yes, as a matter of fact, we do sometimes do other things besides kiss, but…”

“ROY!” Joanne’s voice rose in desperation. “Sweetie, weren’t you saying that you were thirsty? Here, let me get you some Kool-Aid in your favorite cup and then you can go outside on the deck and play with Chris, or maybe you’d like to swing…” Joanne continued to ramble as she attempted to distract both her husband and her daughter. She quickly poured the little girl a cup of the orange liquid then snapped the lid on the cup and stuck a straw in it. “Okay, hurry along now. I’ll have dinner ready soon,” she called out, rushing the child out the door.

“Did I say something wrong?” Roy questioned, leaning against the kitchen cabinet, arms folded over his chest giving his wife his best James Dean look. “I wasn’t gonna tell her.”  
Joanne glared at him, then giggled at his feigned innocence. “You’re so bad,” she said, laughing.

“Awww, I thought you said I was good,” he remarked, moving towards her seductively.

“Later, Roy… I promise… And we’ll do… more than… kiss,” Joanne mumbled between loud smacking quick pecks on his lips. “Now, scoot! I need to finish cooking our dinner.”

E! 

By nightfall, the Lopez family had finished the birthday celebration, and everyone had gone back to their respective homes and lives. As Maria began running Antonio’s bath water, she saw her eldest child standing in the bathroom doorway. Seeing how he was dressed, she knew where he was going.

Marco smoothed his hair away from his face then donned his red baseball cap. His denim shirt had the sleeves cut out leaving his tanned and defined arm muscles exposed. He gave his mother a knowing look before he spoke. “Don’t wait up for me, Mama. I’ll be late again.”

Maria sat her plump bottom on the edge of the tub, waiting for her grandson to finish getting undressed. “I hope tonight is the night,” she said cryptically, not wanting her grandson to ask any questions.

“Me too. I love you, Mama,” Marco offered stepping away from the door.

Before Maria could return the sentiment, Antonio spoke up. “G’night, Meeko.”

“Good night, Ant,” Marco called out as he walked down the hallway. “Be a good boy.”

“Okay.”

Marco was about to open the front door when he heard his young nephew gleefully splash into the bath tub. Again, his heart broke for everything his sister was missing in the life of her son. Maria had always taught her children that some of the best memories in life come from the mundane tasks of daily living. This was one of those times when Alexia should be making just such a memory with her son, instead of making money selling her body.

E!

Mike glanced at his watch and wondered when Marco would arrive. He had already showered and dressed in jeans and a striped button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up onto his forearms. He pulled a soda from his refrigerator and was heading back to his recliner to watch the rest of ‘All in the Family’ when he heard a knock on his front door. He nearly gave an audible gasp when he opened the door and saw his friend standing on the other side, looking almost unrecognizable.

Marco took one quick glance at Mike and couldn’t stifle the smirk. “Are you going out with me, or are you heading to church?”

“What do you mean?” Mike asked, stepping aside to allow his friend to enter.

“You can’t wear that to a truck stop. You’ll never blend in with the others. We’ve got to look like we belong, or they’ll think we’re cops.”

Mike took in the faded and grease-stained jeans, work boots, and ragged denim shirt that Marco was wearing. He tried to remember if he had ever seen his friend wearing a baseball cap before. “Um, yea, okay… Lemme see what I’ve got,” Mike said, heading back down the hallway. “Make yourself at home,” he called back over his shoulder.

Marco blew his cheeks out in a huff as he seated himself on the sofa. He adjusted the cap on his head, realizing that getting Mike to understand the culture his sister was a part of wasn’t going to be easy. He stared at the nearly empty peppermint candy dish on the pristine coffee table of his engineer. The longer he stared, the more alone he felt, just like the single piece of candy in the bottom of the dish. Now that Carlos was no longer helping him out, he wondered if there was any chance of finding his baby sister. He wondered if Mike would be able to handle what they were about to do. Even though Marco had never received any sexual services during his nights out, he always felt guilty when he picked up a woman from one of these places. Somehow, he felt as if he were contributing to her destructive lifestyle, even if he was only exchanging money for information.

In his bedroom, Mike sorted through his dirty laundry in search of something more suitable for the night ahead of him. He pulled out a pair of dirty blue jeans he had worn when he changed the oil in his truck. Even though they weren’t stained, they were somewhat dirty because he had been lying on the ground beneath his truck for thirty minutes while he completed the task. The jeans had been in his hamper for a couple of days getting wrinkled. He then went to his closet and removed a faded navy t-shirt. There were tiny holes near the hem line of the garment which most beer drinkers would recognize as being caused by using his shirt to twist off the caps from beer bottles. He removed his clean garments, hanging them back up, before donning his old clothing. He exchanged his brown loafer-style shoes for a pair of old hiking boots. Even though it went against his nature, he forced himself to let his shirt hang out of his pants instead of tucking it in. Turning off his bedroom light, he returned to the living room to join his lineman.

“Okay… Is this better?”

Marco looked his friend over with a quick glance. “Very nice. Now that we have you looking the part, all that’s left is to make others believe that you’re looking for a little company.”

“Company?” Mike questioned.

“That’s what you’ll be asked, if you’re approached by one of the girls. I mean, they can’t just ask you outright if you’re looking for sex; you might be a cop.” Marco realized that he needed to talk fast if he was going to educate his friend on the seedy lifestyle of prostitutes. “These girls could be arrested for prostitution if they mistakenly proposition a law enforcement officer.” He looked back at Mike for a long moment, as if contemplating his next phrase very carefully.

“What is it?” Mike asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I need to show you something,” Marco said, reaching inside his shirt pocket.

Mike accepted the two pictures his friend handed him. “Is this her?”

“Yes, but those pictures were taken when she was fourteen. She’ll look older now.” Marco reached for the door knob. “Ready?”

“You bet,” Mike replied, turning off the lights in his apartment as the two men headed out the door.

Half an hour later they were in a pick-up truck Marco borrowed from his brother, riding along in companionable silence. Mike needed some time to process what his friend had told him, knowing that there was much more he didn’t know. He stared again at the two pictures of Alexia that Marco had given him. The pictures showed a smiling young teenaged girl. Mike just hoped that if he saw her, he would recognize her from these photographs, knowing that she probably looked much different than she did back then.

Marco passed a pack of Marlboro cigarettes to Mike as they approached the on-ramp and headed north on the 405. 

Mike drew his eyebrows into a point of confusion. “When did you pick up the habit?”

Marco gripped the amber colored butt between his lips, driving with one hand and lighting up with the other. He pulled enough air through the filter to light up the cigarette then quickly removed it from his mouth, holding it between his fingers. He needed their clothing to be permeated with the strong scent of cigarette smoke.

“I haven’t; it’s part of my cover,” Marco responded, placing the smoldering cigarette on the edge of the ashtray, the smoke spiraling up and filling the cab of the truck. 

Mike snickered, unable to control himself. “Cover? Are you playing Officer Reed or Officer Malloy?”

The older man cut his eyes at his friend, never saying a word.

Mike pulled a cigarette out of the pack, then tossed it back over to his lineman. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to insult you.” He flicked the lighter, puffing on his cigarette until the end glowed orange. He leaned his head back, removing the cigarette and blowing the smoke into the cab. He quickly began rolling down the window to allow some of it to escape.

“No, don’t,” Marco stopped him. 

“Why? Don’t you eat enough smoke on the job?” Mike questioned. He held up his hand, not waiting for a response. “I know… I know… It’s part of your cover, right?”

“Yes, we need to smell like it,” the older man responded.

“Between the smoke and these pants that have been in my dirty clothes hamper for the last few days… I stink,” Mike offered, his smile peeking through.

“Doesn’t matter what you smell like; it all smells like money to the girls.”

Not too far ahead, Marco saw the lights of the truck stop. This was the one his informant, Sabrina, seemed to frequent the most. He only had a short amount of time to relay his plan to his friend. “Listen, if you want to back out now, then I’ll understand. But if we do this, then we’ve got to make it believable.”

Mike gave his cigarette another drag. It had been a long time since he had smoked and in some small way, it helped him get psyched up for what they were about to begin. “No… No, I’m not backing out. Just tell me what to do, okay?”

Marco turned on his blinker then made the turn into the large parking lot. “Thanks, Stoker. I owe you.”

“If I ever need your help, I know you won’t let me down, and I’m not gonna let you down now,” Mike spoke prophetically, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray. 

He looked at the rows and rows of big trucks. Some had trailers, some didn’t. Several of the newer models had sleeping quarters, the older ones didn’t. Many were shiny and new, while others were dented and faded. Each one represented a working man, most of them on long hauls far away from wives or girlfriends. 

Carefully, Mike began to look in the shadows just like Marco had taught him. It wasn’t until they rode through the third row that he caught a glimpse of a young scantily clad girl. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a pony tail at the back of her head. She wore large hoop earrings, a denim short skirt with a tight white blouse unbuttoned low enough to reveal her cleavage. It was obvious that she wore no bra. She carried a tiny brown handbag with fringe along the bottom. The strap was thin and long enough for her to cross it over her body so that the purse rested on her hip. Her platform sandals made her hips swish as she walked between the trucks.

Marco saw Mike’s eyes bulging out of his head as he strained his neck to get a better look at the girl. “Yes, she’s one of them.”

Mike cleared his throat, coughing into his closed fist as they pulled into a parking spot near the diner. He needed to settle his nerves a little. This was something he knew existed, but he had never faced it the way he was about to. As he looked around, catching glimpses of other young women climbing into the cabs of the trucks, he hoped he would never need to understand it as well as his lineman. Marco’s voice pulled him back to the smoky cab of the truck.

“Hungry?”

“A little,” Mike responded hesitantly, not liking the looks of the place. 

“Dinner’s on me… Beer too,” Marco announced, as he opened the creaky door of the truck. “If she’s here tonight, she’ll know where to find me.”

“Alexia?”

“No, Sabrina. I need to find out if she’s heard anything new on Lexi. Then… If we can just make contact with her… Then maybe we can convince her to come home.”

The two friends left the smoky cab of Marco’s pick-up truck, and entered the even smokier dining area of the truck stop. The buzzing noise of dozens of truck drivers talking floated along with the haze in the large room. Music could be heard from the far corner, along with the occasional raised voices exchanging curses. No one seemed to notice when they entered, which worked to their advantage. The two slipped into a vacant booth waiting for a waitress. There was still a lot that Marco needed to share with Mike, and his mother’s sense of urgency was beginning to take root in his own heart, telling him that time was running out for Alexia.

E!

Alexia hated leaving her friend alone when she was so upset, but she needed to make some money, enough for them both. She sat down on the edge of the twin bed, feeling the forehead of her roommate, Brianna.

“I think your fever’s back,” she announced, reaching for the bottle of aspirin on the small bedside table. “Can you sit up a little?”

“Just go… Please? Don’t worry ‘bout me,” the depressed woman said, curling onto her side, away from Alexia. 

Alexia cast a glance down at Brianna’s pale hand as the young woman pulled the thread-bare blanket up around her neck. She saw the small Pinocchio tattoo along Brianna’s thin forearm. She hated it and all that it represented to them both. She looked at her own matching tattoo and began rubbing it as if it physically hurt her. It was a symbol for them, a constant reminder that their life was no longer theirs. They belonged to him, and neither one was able to make a move without his approval. They were merely marionettes, puppets on a string, and neither felt any more alive than the wooden toy depicted on their forearms. 

“I won’t leave unless you at least take a couple of aspirin. Or, I can call the fire department and…”

“Damn, Lex,” the young woman interrupted, rolling over and pushing herself up slightly. “I don’t need a nurse.”

“I’m not trying to be a nurse, Bri. I’m just trying to help you, alright?”

Brianna accepted the aspirin, taking a sip of the warm flat soda that was sitting on the table beside her. Once she swallowed them, she looked back up at her roommate. “If you really want to help me then you’ll leave me alone. I need the good stuff, not a fucking aspirin.” She immediately regretted her harsh words. Her hormones were still fluctuating from the loss of her pregnancy. She saw the pain in her friend’s face as the other woman stood up to leave. “Wait… Lex?”

“What?” Alexia responded, keeping her back to Brianna. She didn’t want her friend to know that her feelings were hurt.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just…. I just wanted to hold m-my ba-by…,” the woman broke down, uncontrollable sobs racking her body.

Quickly, Alexia returned to Brianna’s side. “I know,” she said, wrapping her arms around her crying friend. “What he did was horrible, Bri. I know you’re hurting now. I know… I-I miss my little boy, too.”

Muffled sniffling sounds came from the other woman. “Yea… But, h-he’s alive, Lex. You k-kept him alive,” Brianna hiccupped. “M-maybe you c-can see him ag-gain some day. I ne-ever even got to s-see mine.”

Alexia sat rocking the crying woman in her arms for several long minutes. She brushed Brianna’s dark mussed up hair as she thought back to her own loss. She had shed enough tears to float a cruise ship in the last four years. If she could have anything in the world, it would be to spend just one carefree happy day with her little boy, the child she abandoned. At least she hadn’t been beaten into a miscarriage, and then left to burn to death like Brianna. Alexia swiped at her eyes, forcing back the tears that threatened to run down her face, ruining the heavy make-up she had just applied. She sat stiffly, refusing to allow his actions to make her cower in fear or cry any more. She had realized long ago that her only purpose in life now was to protect her family – protect them from the demons she had unknowingly brought into their lives when she was just an innocent young teenager. Now, she looked and felt much older than her nineteen years. There was no planning for tomorrow for her. No safety to be found in the protective shadow of her older brothers. No warm embrace from her mother’s arms. And they would never know just how much they meant to her. Since the night she left her newborn son on the doorstep of her childhood home, she no longer believed in a ‘happily ever after’ ending to her life’s story. Steeling her nerves, she prepared to go out into the night, to do what she had to do in order to survive… And to ensure the safety of those she loved more than anything else on earth.

E!

By two o’clock the following morning, Marco and Mike had both turned down a couple of offers for company as they continued to sit and talk inside the truck stop. Marco stubbed out another cigarette, adding the butt to the pile growing in the ashtray on the table. He glanced at his watch then looked over at his tired friend. Over the last few hours, Marco had explained everything he knew about the sordid world of prostitution to his friend. He had used their location as a stage, wanting Mike to see for himself what Marco was explaining. Marco had also hoped that Sabrina might be working in the area, and if she was, he hoped she had more information for him. As the hours ticked by, Marco realized that Sabrina was not working the truck stop. He and Mike only had one more day off before they had to be back on duty. He didn’t want his obsession with finding Alexia to cause them to be too tired to work safely on their next shift. He pushed his coffee cup to the side, reaching for his wallet.

“Are you ready to go? I don’t think she’s here tonight.”

Before Mike had a chance to answer, another scantily clad woman slipped into the booth, taking a seat beside Marco.

“How ya doin’?” The woman asked, removing her gum and adding it to the pile of cigarette butts in the ashtray.

“Tired. I was beginning to think you weren’t here tonight,” he said, seeing Mike shifting nervously in his seat. “Mike, this is Sabrina,” he said by way of introduction.

“Nice to meet you,” Mike responded, nodding his head at the woman.

“Likewise,” she returned, her eyes darting out the window beside the booth. As always, she knew she was being watched.

After an uncomfortable moment of silence, Sabrina cleared her throat. She needed to tell Marco the news that she knew he wasn’t going to want to hear, but she couldn’t do it in the diner. The eyes that were watching her wanted her making money, not chatting with a couple of men in a booth.

“Um, let’s go somewhere else, okay?”

Marco looked at Sabrina, understanding what she meant. “Sure, come on, Stoker,” he requested, dropping a few bills on the table to cover the cost of their meal.

Mike slid out of the booth, feeling as if everyone in the place was staring at him. He wanted to hold his hands up and scream that he and Marco were not involved in a ménage à trois, but lowered his face and rushed out the door instead.

Marco held open the door of the pick-up truck allowing Sabrina to climb inside. He took his place in the driver’s seat then waited for Mike to join them before backing out of the parking spot.

“Where should we go?”

Sabrina looked around, picking out the most dimly lit spot on the premises. “Over there, on the other side of that sign.”

Marco maneuvered the pick-up behind the large flashing sign and turned off the engine. The shadows would allow them the privacy they needed. He looked over at Sabrina, seeing Mike fidgeting nervously on the other side of her. He remembered how he felt the first time she had gotten inside his vehicle. Knowing how Mike felt, he spoke up trying to relax the man.

“Take it easy, Stoker. We haven’t done anything wrong,” he said, reaching into his back pocket to remove his wallet. He knew that for Sabrina, time was money. He reached inside his wallet and pulled out twenty dollars.

“I know… I’m good…,” Mike lied, his voice nearly squeaking as he slid a little closer to the door, and away from Sabrina.

Sabrina accepted the money, placing it in her tiny purse. She inhaled deeply, blowing out her breath before she began. “Look, I gotta tell ya. I talked to her.”

“Lexi?”

“Yea, and Marco… I hate to be the one to tell ya this, but…,”

Marco’s heart skipped a beat. Was his baby sister hurt? Drug addicted? Or worst of all, was she dead? “B-but what? Just say it.”

“Honey… I told her that I knew ya. And I mentioned that you were lookin’ for her. But….” And again, she hesitated; something that was driving Marco crazy with fear.

“Marco… Your sister jus’ don’t wanna be found.”

E!

A/N: Thanks so much for all the encouragement. I appreciate everyone who is following this saga, and especially those of you who have shared your thoughts with me. I do realize that this story has taken us away from the station for several chapters now, but we’ll get back to it in chapter 7.


	7. Chapter 7

Warning: strong language

Chapter 7

Marco and Mike made the long trip back in relative silence. Marco’s mind was still reeling from Sabrina’s words and Mike had no idea what to say to comfort him. Finally, as he pulled to a stop outside Mike’s apartment, Marco reached out to shake hands with his long-time friend.

“Sorry I kept you up late for nothing, Stoker. I, uh, I appreciate your help.”

Mike released his grip on his lineman’s hand. “It wasn’t for nothing. Don’t give up, Marco. She’s your baby sister… Don’t ever give up,” he said, reaching for the door handle.  
Marco nodded his head then looked away, clearing his throat. He didn’t want Mike to see his teary eyes. “Ahem… See you next shift,” he offered, shifting the pick-up truck into reverse just as Mike closed the door.

E!

Mike toed off his shoes near his front door then began stripping as he headed down the hallway. Remembering the pictures Marco had given him, he removed them from his shirt pocket, tossing them onto his dresser then removed the remainder of his clothing. He needed a shower to remove the stench of the cigarette smoke. He turned on the water in his shower, waiting for it to warm up. Once he saw the steam rising above the curtain, he stepped inside and began lathering up. Removing all traces of the stench made him feel much better. One thing the soap and water couldn’t remove, however, was the memory of what he had witnessed at the truck stop and the girls he had seen moving from truck to truck. Thankfully, many of the truckers had turned them down. However, too many times the passenger door was opened and a girl climbed inside. He couldn’t imagine what was going through the minds of the men who were participating in the illegal activity. It was obvious to him that most of the girls were under age, making the men guilty of a multitude of illegal activities. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t figure out how they were able to pay for these services and then head back onto the road as if the transaction had been nothing more than the purchase of a cup of coffee. 

He reached out, turning the water off and reaching for his towel. As he scrubbed his hair dry, he was overwhelmed with gratitude mixed with anger. He was grateful that he didn’t understand how the truckers were able to do it, and angry for what those men were doing to the young ladies working the parking lot. Because, if he was able to understand it, then he felt as if he would have lost his humanity. For his own sanity, he needed to stay angry because that was keeping him human.

He wrapped the damp towel around his waist and walked back into his bedroom. He needed to get at least a couple of hours of sleep. As he opened up the drawers on his dresser to remove a tee shirt and boxers, he looked at the smiling face of Alexia Lopez one more time. He inhaled deeply, touching the photo lightly with his fingertips. “We will find you, Alexia. Whether you want to be found or not. We will find you.”

E!

Even though he was exhausted, Marco wasn’t ready to head back to his mother’s house. Instead, he drove around aimlessly for a long time, somehow ending up in Santa Monica just before dawn. He parked near the pier, then walked towards the beach. As he crossed the sidewalk, he paused near a park bench long enough to remove his boots and socks. He needed to feel something familiar and hoped that walking across the course sand would help ground him. The beach felt, sounded, and smelled the same as it always had, even if the rest of his world had changed. He listened to the waves crashing in the shadows, the steady rhythm normally acting as a balm for his wounded heart, but not tonight. He thought back to his childhood, the laughter of his baby sister echoing through his mind above the roar of the surf. Tentatively, he took a few steps forward onto the wet sand just out of the reach of the tendrils of the water lapping hungrily at his feet as he stood beside the looming pier. He looked out over the vastness of the Pacific Ocean, feeling as small and insignificant as the grains of sand on which he stood. He felt like a failure. He had tried so hard to find her, searching for years, only to hear the words that continued to stab him over and over in his heart and soul. ‘Your sister don’t wanna be found.’

He faced the breeze, the cool air blowing his hair away from his face. The slight roar of the wind blowing across his ears felt as if it carried Sabrina’s words on it. Again, and again, and again he heard the phrase echoing. ‘Your sister don’t wanna be found. Your sister don’t wanna be found.’ He swiped the moisture from the inside corners of his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. As the daylight began to cast a faint glow across the pre-dawn sky, he wondered if perhaps it was time to let it all go, to give up on reuniting his family. Was it time to do as Cristobal had done, consider her gone forever? He shoved his hands deeply into his pockets, realizing that he had been mourning her loss for years, and yet, she wasn’t actually dead, not yet anyway. Therefore, he couldn’t grieve and move on the way he did after his father had died. It was as if he had buried someone who might be resurrected at any time. That left the wound in his heart open and bleeding. Now, maybe it was time to bury her for good so his own healing could begin. He looked across the undulating waves, their white caps shimmering in the glow of the street lights. He imagined seeing the ghost of a dark-haired teenaged girl walking across the sand, into the water, and continuing until she disappeared into the murky depths, swallowed up by the unseen forces beneath the waves.

He inhaled one last deep salty breath of ocean breeze, then turned to trudge through the thick sand on his way back to the borrowed pick-up truck. In those moments, alone on the beach, he decided to let go of the ghost of a sister who didn’t want to be a part of the Lopez family any longer. He hoped that the act of symbolically releasing her would somehow free himself up to be the son, brother, and uncle the rest of his family needed him to be. That is, if he had in fact been able to truly let her go. 

As he backed out of the parking space, he turned his head to the right. There, walking slowly up the street, was a dark-haired young woman, and once again his heart felt crushed. Although the young lady was not Alexia, the resemblance was there. He drove slowly past her, noting the blank expression on her face, and he knew in the deepest caverns of his soul, he had not truly released his sister’s spirit. She was still taking up residence inside his heart. His mission would continue.

E!

Mike arrived at work a little earlier than usual, hoping that his senior lineman might make an early appearance, too. He wanted to have a few minutes alone with Marco, just to make sure the older man was doing okay after the news he had received from his informant. Mike didn’t find Marco, but he did find the C-shift in the kitchen, groggily downing their morning coffee.

“Morning,” he offered, finding the coffee pot nearly empty. “Tough shift?”

“I’ll say,” Paul, the C-shift engineer, piped up. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to head on out,” he said, yawning. “My head hasn’t hit the pillow in over 26 hours.”

Mike released a slow whistle as he rinsed out the pot. “Yea, man. Take off.” He reached into the cabinet, busying himself with the task of preparing more coffee while the rest of the crew grumbled about the warehouse fire and seven-car pile-up that had kept them out all night.

Twenty minutes later, Roy was in the locker room changing from his street clothes into his department blues, when his partner rushed through the door. The two began talking about their days off with Roy sharing his excitement about Johnny’s plan for Caroline and Joanne. Suddenly, Chet pushed through the locker room door. He seemed to be in a world of his own, whistling a peppy tune with a goofy grin on his face.

“Mornin’ fellas,” the Irishman offered, then immediately returned to the same song he had been whistling when he waltzed in.

Johnny’s dark eyes tracked Chet’s path, while his jaw dropped open. He looked back at his own partner only to find him with a smug grin on his face as he opened his locker door to retrieve his uniform. Johnny finished unbuttoning his plaid shirt, leaving it hanging loosely along his naked thin torso as his head swished back and forth between the two other men. Suddenly, his lopsided grin began to tug at the left corner of his mouth. Slowly, he sidestepped his locker, cocking one eyebrow while watching to see if Chet or Roy might be eyeing his movements. When he realized they weren’t watching, he carefully leaned sideways, opening his locker just a bit. When no water bomb sprang out, he pulled the door open wider. Still nothing happened.

“Huh?”

“Did you say something, Gage?” Chet asked, buttoning up his own light blue shirt and tucking it into his navy pants.

“Uh, no… No, I didn’t say anything,” Johnny called out, tapping Roy on the shoulder. He quickly jerked his thumb in the direction of the whistling man. “What’s up with him?” He whispered.

Roy smiled broadly. “What do you think?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say the Phantom set me up. But, I already checked my locker and it’s clean.”

“Maybe he’s just happy that your plan was accepted by everyone,” Roy chided. He knew why Chet was in a better frame of mind, but it wasn’t his place to discuss the young lineman’s love life.

Johnny narrowed his eyes at his partner, knowing there was something Roy knew that he wasn’t telling Johnny. “Wait a minute… What’s goin’ on?”

Roy closed his locker door, taking a seat on the bench to put on his work shoes. “Listen to what he’s whistling.”

The two men were silent for a moment, as they listened to the tune Chet continued to whistle as he walked past them heading out the locker room door. The last few notes faded into the apparatus bay, as understanding dawned on Johnny’s expressive face. “I don’t believe it. They did it, didn’t they?”

“I can’t think of anything else that would make him whistle like that, can you?” Roy asked, slapping his partner on the shoulder as he pulled open the door.

“Ohhh, this is gonna be goooood,” Johnny said rubbing his hands together, his brain already scheming. As he walked into the kitchen, he saw Chet pouring himself a cup of coffee, humming now, instead of whistling. Johnny couldn’t resist the temptation. As soon as Chet’s humming reached the chorus, Johnny sang out.

“Sweeeet, Caroline… Good times never seemed so good,” he sang off key.

“IIIII’ve been inclined…” Roy joined in.

“Oh, knock it off, fellas!” Chet nearly shouted, his cheeks turning a glowing shade of crimson.

“I think somebody had a good time on his off days, right Kelly?” Johnny asked, laying his arm loosely along Chet’s shoulder.

“As a matter of fact, I did. And you can’t screw it up, so don’t even try.”

Johnny snickered. “I don’t wanna screw it up. I just wanna know how you finally talked her into it.”

“Shut up, Gage,” Chet warned. Caroline wasn’t like any other woman he had ever dated, and he wanted nothing more than to protect her reputation from the sordid comments Johnny was known to dish out on occasion.

“All of you twits shut up for a minute, will ya?” Hank broke in, sticking his head in the kitchen doorway. “Roll call in two. Anybody seen Lopez?”

“Here,” came an echo from across the bay. Marco was walking out of the locker room with shadows looming beneath his eyes as he walked across the apparatus bay tucking his shirt tail into his pants. “I’m here.” More than anything, Marco wanted a cup of coffee to prepare himself for the shift. He hadn’t slept well the previous night and none at all the night before when he and Mike went out looking for his sister. Yet, he had heard his captain ordering roll call in two minutes. His wake-up coffee would have to wait. He stopped just outside the kitchen door, taking his place in the line-up knowing the others would soon follow.

One by one the men of ‘A’ shift filed out the door of the kitchen and took their positions in the line-up. The seasoned captain eyed his men suspiciously. Chet had a cheesy grin on his face. Hank wondered for a moment if perhaps the young man had come to work stoned, but he knew Chet well enough to know that wasn’t the case. His eyes then made their way to his two paramedics. They were behaving like a couple of devious school boys who had tied the teacher’s shoe to her desk and were waiting for her to try to walk away. They were fighting hard to keep their grins in check so as not to draw any more attention to themselves. Then, his eyes fell on his engineer and his senior linemen. Neither looked especially well-rested, and both appeared to be thinking about something other than their jobs. 

“Okay, men… We’ve got a group of boy scouts coming by for a tour around four o’clock this afternoon. Roy, they’ll be your responsibility.”

“Yes, sir,” Roy groaned. He knew that he was the logical choice, having a son about their age, but sometimes he wished his crew mates could share in the agony of the endless questions from overly anxious boys.

“Thanks, Roy. Now, let’s make sure this place is clean and ready for them. Lopez, latrines. Gage, dorms. DeSoto, apparatus bay. Stoker, dayroom. And Kelly, kitchen.”

A multitude of groans were elicited by the men as Chet’s name was called out for cooking their meals.

“Hey… I’m not that bad!”

“It’s okay, Chet. Roy and I will swing by Rampart for a stomach pump after our first run,” Johnny joked.

“Oh, ha-ha,” the Irishman shot back.

Hank ran a hand through his hair, interrupting the verbal sparring from his men. “Alright, listen up. There’s one more thing.” He reached to the top of his clipboard, removing a piece of white paper and passing it to Johnny at the end of the line. “Take a good look, men. This is Julia Hubbard. She’s 13 years old and was last seen walking home from school on Friday. She hasn’t been seen since. Both her home and school are within our district so keep your eyes open. The police aren’t sure if she ran away or was abducted.”

Marco gritted his teeth together, flexing his jaw muscles. He listened as various comments were made as the men passed the picture down the line. Chet noticed that the girl looked like an older version of Corrie, and that thought sent a shiver down his spine as he considered what the missing girl may be going through, if she was still alive. He handed the paper to Marco, startled when the older man grasped the paper, barely glancing at it before passing it quickly to Mike.

“That was quick, Marco,” Chet said, a bit sarcastically.

Marco knew he should have taken a closer look, but he also knew that the face he would see on the poster was not that of Julia Hubbard. He remembered how his family had been treated when they went to the police station after his sister ran away from home. The officer who took the report had been polite, but Marco and his mother had left with a heavy foreboding in their hearts. 

“Don’t need to look closer. She’s probably white with blonde hair,” Marco answered, staring straight ahead. He didn’t notice Hank’s eyes glaring at him.

Chet drew his eyebrows together. “What? You got something against blondes?” Chet continued his ridicule of his partner.

“No… I just don’t think they deserve special treatment because of the color of their hair… or skin.”

“Lopez,” Captain Stanley warned.

“Sorry, Cap, but it’s true. Chicano girls go missing and nobody sends out posters or asks us to be on the lookout for them.”

“Now wait just a minute,” Roy piped up. “Every child matters… Every person matters, so don’t…”

“He’s right,” Johnny interrupted, making eye contact with Marco, offering the older man his support. His memory suddenly taking him back to his teenage years, and shocking scenes that he would never be able to remove from his mind no matter how hard he tried. “I know it’s the 70’s and we’re s’posed to be beyond all that, but it still happens… It happens a lot. Not everyone gets treated the same way.”

Johnny and Marco seemed to join forces while Chet and Roy felt the need to defend their positions. 

“Not here, man,” Chet retorted, pointing at the floor. “No way! That’s bullshit, and Marco and Johnny, you both know it.”

“Drop it, Chet. Let it go,” Mike suggested.

“Whose side are you on, Mike?” Chet questioned. “We’re gettin’ accused of bigotry or somethin’,” Chet shouted, waving his arms frantically. 

“I’m just saying that you don’t know all the details, so…,” Mike’s statement was cut short by Marco and Roy raising their voices at each other.

“If she had tanned skin, then everybody would just assume she was another wetback and barely give her a second thought,” Marco said, pointing a finger at Roy’s chest.

“She’s a kid who might be in danger and I for one don’t give a damn if she has purple skin with green freckles,” Roy shot back. “Don’t accuse me of giving priority to victims because of the color of their skin!”

“Nobody’s accusin’ you of anything, Roy. We’re just sayin’ that things are different for minorities,” Johnny spoke up, waving a hand between himself and Marco, “than it is for whites,” he concluded, waving his hand towards Chet and Roy. “Not sayin’ either of you are guilty… Just makin’ a statement, that’s all.”

“Yea, well I think that’s a crock of sh…”

“Can it, Kelly!” Hank shouted. “That’s enough from…”

“Oh, you do, huh? If you could walk a mile in my moccasins, then you…,” Johnny continued, ignoring his captain’s orders.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, knock it off, Gage,” Chet shot back. “That shit’s been…”

The shouts and swearing grew louder, overtaking Hank’s orders for silence and to resume the line-up. When his commands were ignored, he loped over to the engine, quickly opened the door, pulled himself up into the engineer’s seat, and blew the air horn.

“Augh, damn it!” Chet shouted, covering his ears with his hands, no longer able to hear the words Johnny was yelling at him.

As the sound of the air horn blowing inside the closed apparatus bay silenced the men, Hank narrowed his eyes at his crew. Through clenched jaw muscles he spat out his command. “I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to allow such behavior on MY watch!” He placed both hands on his hips as if daring anyone to speak. “Not another word is to be spoken in here while you do your chores. Then I’ll decide what to do with each of you. Do. You. Understand?” He waited for the obligatory confirmations from his men. “Good, now get with it.” He waved them off as he felt sweat rolling down from his temples. Never had he lost control of his men like this.

Hank watched as his men peeled out of the line-up and headed for their respective assignments. It was obvious that each was angry about what had just occurred, but Hank had no idea what to make of the melt down. He ran a hand through his hair just as Marco moved out of the line-up. He opened his mouth to call his senior lineman into his office, then thought better of it. Something unspoken was going on between Mike and Marco. He thought back to the way Mike had quickly intervened between their linemen. His second in command was a strong, silent and stalwart man who rarely jumped to conclusions. Hank coughed into his closed fist, frustrated by what had happened, but very determined to get to the bottom of it. “Not you, Mike. I want to see you in my office.”

Mike and Marco once again exchanged a knowing look. “Yes, sir.”

Hank stomped off towards the captain’s office, feeling as if his ears were blowing steam. If he hadn’t known better, he would have sworn that what just happened was a prank his men had pulled on him. But Hank Stanley knew better. This was no joke. The emotions displayed in the apparatus bay were very real. His tight-knit crew was falling apart and the catalyst appeared to be his senior lineman. He just hoped he could get some answers from the trusted man following him into his office.

Just as Hank’s foot crossed the threshold of his office, the tones sounded. “Jeezus,” he muttered under his breath. He walked hurriedly to the radio to acknowledge the call, praying that somehow the division within his crew could be set aside for the safety of whomever was in need of their services.

“Squad 51 – unconscious woman, 1749 Market Street, apartment 10… That’s 1-7-4-9 Market Street, apartment 10, Cross Street – Belleview. Time out, 0824 hours.”

“Squad 51, KMG365,” Hank spoke authoritatively into the mic. He tore off the piece of paper from the pad and passed it to his senior paramedic. 

Roy had already tightened his chin strap and quickly passed the paper over to his partner. Johnny accepted it, adjusting his helmet as the bay door rose. Hank stood back watching as the squad exited the station, turning right on the first run of the shift. He trusted his paramedics to be professionals when the lives of the citizens in their district were at stake. He just hoped the two warring men could work out their differences before they returned to the station. Slowly, he turned around and saw his engineer standing at the door of the captain’s office. Hank blew out his breath, hesitating long enough to look around him, ensuring his linemen had gone their separate ways. Quickly, he made his way over to the place where Mike stood. 

“Stoker… What the hell just happened?”

Mike bit his bottom lip, looking over his shoulder towards the latrine. When he didn’t see Marco, he turned to face his superior once more. He didn’t want to betray Marco’s trust, but if he didn’t do something, his captain may have to resort to multiple disciplinary actions. He had to quickly decide which was more important, the trust of his friend, or the respect of his captain and the salvation of the A-shift at Station 51. He uncrossed his arms, planting his hands firmly on his hips. No one was going to win in this particular situation and he knew it. Even though Marco had not intended to drag him into the middle of a family dispute, that’s exactly where Mike found himself. The only difference was that the ‘family’ consisted of his shift mates. He quickly made up his mind. Looking at his captain, the man he held in high esteem, he softly spoke up. “Cap… In your office? Please?”

E!

The two paramedics exchanged the barbs from their earlier altercation for a cloak of complete professionalism. No longer were they divided on their opinions, but were once again united by the need of the unknown victim for whom they had been dispatched. 

Johnny narrowed his eyes against the glare of the morning sun. He glanced at the map book in his hand, using his middle finger to guide his eyes along the most direct route to their victim. His brown eyes scanned the street signs in search of the one they needed to take. “Next left, Roy.”

Roy flipped on the blinker and quickly maneuvered the red Dodge between the yielding vehicles. Both men began scanning the rundown neighborhood, searching for the apartment complex. When it finally came into view, Roy screeched to a stop, silencing the siren while Johnny contacted the dispatcher.

“Squad 51 at scene.”

Both men peeled out of the vehicle, opening compartments and removing the gear they thought they might need. Quickly, they walked up the broken sidewalk and into the dilapidated structure. There was no elevator, and the threadbare carpet that ran along the stairs was littered with stains. Johnny felt the crunch of a large roach beneath his foot, and briefly wondered what other sorts of wildlife might call this place home. The stairs creaked and groaned underneath their weight as if protesting the intrusion of the men and their equipment. Finally, after reaching the third floor, Roy noticed a door open and a frantic looking young woman standing in the doorway.

“It’s my roommate… Oh, please hurry,” the dark haired woman cried, leading them through the sparsely furnished abode. “She’s back here.”

The sight that awaited them caught them both by surprise. There, lying in the middle of a twin bed, was an unconscious young woman. She was curled into a fetal position with her left forearm wrapped in a towel and resting on the edge of the bed, a pool of blood on the floor. 

“What happened?” Roy asked as he and Johnny began to set up their equipment. He rolled their patient onto her back, noting her paleness, and quickly began taking her vitals. He noticed something familiar about the young woman, but didn’t allow his mind to ponder the thought. Her condition was critical, and time was something she didn’t have much of.

“Johnny, let’s get some oxygen on her,” Roy stated flatly, his hand resting on his patient’s abdomen for a few moments before he turned back to the young woman hovering in the doorway. “What happened?”

The woman, who had identified herself as the patient’s roommate, wrapped her arms around her midsection. “I-I don’t know. She wasn’t feeling well when I left last night, but… But she…”

Roy quickly removed his stethoscope from his ears and allowed it to dangle around his neck. “Did she cut herself intentionally?” He asked, his voice more commanding, as he peeled away the hastily applied bandage, finding the wound more gruesome than he had anticipated. He already knew the answer to his question, but he was hoping it might prompt her roommate to divulge additional information.

“I- I think so. I found her like this when I got home… I-I wrapped the towel around her arm. She was moaning a little then, but she… She quit making any sounds just before you arrived.

In the background, Roy could hear Johnny initiating contact with Rampart. 

“Rampart, this is squad 51. How do you read?”

Hearing the deep voice of Dr. Brackett answering, he then returned his attention to the roommate. “Miss, do you have any idea how long ago she cut herself?” 

“N-no… I was… I was out… all night. I work nights,” the young woman stuttered. 

Roy’s frustration was building. “Any drugs?”

“NO… I mean, no. She’s clean. She just… She did have a miscarriage recently though. She was hurt in a fire and lost the baby.”

Johnny and Roy both stopped what they were doing and stared at each other. The pieces suddenly fit together and Roy knew why the young woman looked so familiar. “Johnny, same girl we rescued…”

“Yea, I got it. I’ll let Rampart know so they can pull her record.” Johnny returned back to the biophone, cradling the black receiver between his left shoulder and ear. He removed the supplies from the IV box, knowing exactly what was going to be ordered, and passed the items to his partner.

“Miss, what’s her name?” Roy asked, accepting the items from his partner and beginning the process of prepping his patient’s right arm for the large bore IV. He and Johnny had never even thought to ask for her name during her previous rescue. Now, it was extremely important.

“Um, Bri-Brianna,” the crying woman spoke softly. “Is she… Is she gonna die?” She sniffled.

“Not if we can help it,” Roy answered honestly. He heard the sound of the ambulance approaching. “Do you think you can show the ambulance attendants where we are?” He was a bit relieved when she nodded her agreement and hurriedly exited the small room. 

The two men exchanged grimaces, each knowing what the other was thinking. Roy got the IV established while Johnny began a more thorough exam, searching for recent injuries. With Dr. Brackett’s explanation for her miscarriage still ringing in the backs of their minds, both men wondered if perhaps the same person who had caused her miscarriage had somehow caused her current injury, whether directly or indirectly.

“Brianna?” Roy called out, using his knuckles for a sternal rub.

“Ugh… Mmmm,” she groaned, wrinkling her face at the discomfort.

“Can you open your eyes for me, Brianna?” He continued to call out to her, hoping the sound of her own name would help rouse her.

Johnny continued examining their patient’s arms and legs. “I don’t see anything new,” Johnny spoke up. He knew Roy would understand the statement. At least she hadn’t been beaten again. Also, both paramedics had noticed the precision with which the cuts were made. “Looks like she decided she didn’t like her tattoo.”

“Yea,” Roy muttered, turning to look behind him as the Mayfair Ambulance attendants bumped the gurney against the front door frame as they entered the apartment. “Looks like she tried to decapitate Pinocchio.”

“Humph, and castrate him, too,” Johnny noted, adjusting the flow on the IV as they prepared to transfer her to the stretcher. “I’ll bring the squad in,” Johnny acknowledged, packing up the supplies. He watched as Brianna and her caregivers made their way out of the apartment. Leaving behind one frustrated paramedic and a very distraught young woman.

“My name is Johnny Gage,” the remaining man began. “They’re gonna take her to Rampart General Hospital, Miss…?”

The young woman looked up through tear-filled eyes. “Um,” she mumbled, finally taking note of the helmet the handsome young paramedic wore. The number on the black helmet was 51 – the same station where her brother worked. She gulped past the sudden lump in her throat, knowing the young man was waiting for her to introduce herself, and in her distress, she nearly used her real name. Finally, she remembered the identification she often carried with her. The one she had been provided with when she began working the streets. “Ah, LeRoux… Alexandria LeRoux,” she lied, convincingly.

Johnny smiled. “She’s in good hands, Miss LeRoux. Do you know how to get to the hospital?”

She nodded affirmatively, quickly diverting her eyes from the handsome young fireman. “Thank you.”

Johnny nodded his head briefly, then headed for the front door to let himself out. He repacked the remaining equipment into the compartments of the squad, slid in behind the steering wheel, and quickly drove in the direction of Rampart General, having no idea that the altercation that had begun at the station during roll call had been directly related to the young woman he had just left behind.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Mike followed his captain into the office and closed the door behind them. Hank took a seat at the desk, gesturing to his engineer to take a seat in the available chair.

“Mike…,” Hank began, rubbing his temples. It was still early in the morning and he already had a throbbing headache. “Is this Station 51 or The Twilight Zone?”

Mike gulped. He had never seen his superior so angry at so many crew members at one time. “Um… I - I don’t know what to say. I just…”

Hank leaned back in his seat, cutting his eyes at his engineer, and interrupting his mumbling. “Well, you seemed to know what to say to Chet earlier.” He narrowed his eyes at Mike, watching as the younger man dropped his face downward slightly. Hank knew that if Mike couldn’t make eye contact with him, then he definitely knew what was going on.

“Ahem, I was, ah… I was just trying to defuse the situation. Marco’s been under a lot of stress at home lately. He… He really needs to be cut some slack. That’s all.”

“What kind of pressure?”

This was what Mike had feared would happen when he suggested that he and Hank talk in the captain’s office. He was afraid that his captain would want more of an explanation than he was prepared to provide. “Just, ah… Just some family issues.”

Once again, Hank’s frustration was reaching the boiling point. “Don’t patronize me, Michael Stoker.” Hank inched himself closer to the nervous engineer, boring his hazel eyes at Mike. He had never had to put this kind of pressure on his engineer before and he didn’t like doing it now. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, Mike lifted his face slightly, his weary blue eyes looking at his angry captain. Silently, he pleaded for a reprieve from the interrogatory pressure.

“Now, I’ll repeat my earlier question and I want the truth…. The whole truth. What the hell’s going on with my men?”

E!

Chet shoved angrily through the kitchen door, wanting to kick or punch something… Or someone. He stood staring at the sink, several dirty coffee cups lined up in the basin.   
Cleaning up the cups would be easy; cleaning up his relationship with Marco wouldn’t be quite so simple. He felt angry and bitter towards the man who had been his best friend and partner for several years. 

“Shit,” he cursed, spinning around and tentatively sticking his head out the kitchen door. He needed to make sure that Captain Stanley was in his office. He knew the seasoned officer had intentionally separated his linemen, but right now, Chet needed to talk to Marco. He couldn’t let this fester any longer.

E!

Marco picked up the toilet brush and began scrubbing the porcelain bowl, grateful the task was a mundane one. His mind wasn’t on his chores. Although he knew it was wrong, he wanted to be eavesdropping on the conversation between Mike and Captain Stanley. Was Mike giving away his family secret? He had always trusted Mike, trusted him with his life on every run, but this was different. He had mistakenly brought his engineer, his friend, into the Lopez family nightmare, and it had done him absolutely no good. He had thought that sharing his mission with Mike would somehow ease the burden on himself. Instead, it had brought on a new nightmare. Now, he wondered if his family secret was being divulged to his shift captain.

He flushed the toilet; the noise drowning out the sound of the latrine door being pushed open. He straightened back up, startled by who was waiting for him. There, standing with his arms crossed and leaning against the row of lockers was his partner. 

“I believe I heard Cap assign you kitchen duty,” Marco muttered, his voice gruff with frustration.

Chet stared silently at his friend, wondering how so much had gone so wrong so quickly. He saw the pain on his friend’s face, and his own anger began to fade. “This isn’t like you, Marco.”

Marco broke eye contact quickly, moving on to the shower stall. He did not want to have this conversation right now. “Better get back to the kitchen, Chet. I was assigned latrine duty, not you.”

“Oh, stow it, Marco. This is me you’re talkin’ to. What the hell did I do to you for you to be so pissed off at me, huh?”

“Nothing,” he stated curtly, using the bottle of bathroom cleaner to spritz the shower stall. He then began scrubbing it, turning his back to his friend.

Chet uncrossed his arms, walking towards the shower stall. He leaned his shoulder against the wall, watching his friend closely. “Then what did that little girl do to piss you off, man? She might be a victim, and you’re ignoring her.”

“I don’t ignore victims, Chet,” Marco spat out through clenched teeth. “I try my best to save them… All of them.”

“Oh yea? Then tell me this. How are you helpin’ her?” Chet asked, pointing towards the place where they had stood for roll call. He hesitated for a moment, hoping he had been able to break through the stone fortress his friend had built around himself. Then, knowing he needed to get back to the kitchen, he turned and pushed his way through the latrine door. The last thing he needed was to have his captain see him talking to Marco.

Chet’s words were like a knife in Marco’s back. He stopped scrubbing for a moment, the words echoing in his ears. Chet was wrong about him. He knew that Julia Hubbard might be a victim, but he wasn’t able to discuss it with his younger partner. Julia was about the same age as Alexia when she ran away; a fact that tore a hole in his already battered heart. There were plenty of sick twisted people out there, preying on innocent kids just like Julia. He leaned his forearm against the cold tile of the shower stall, resting his head against his arm. He felt like he was reliving a nightmare, one from which he couldn’t wake up.

The chlorine assaulted him, burning his eyes and nose. Quickly, he exited the stall, needing a breath of fresh air. Leaving his cleaning supplies behind, he rushed out of the latrine door, out into the cool morning air behind the station. Feeling a bit calmer in the morning sun, he meandered over to the hose tower, taking a seat on the lower rung. He had to pull himself together before they got toned out. 

Mike walked out of the captain’s office, catching a glimpse of Chet going back into the kitchen and seeing Marco exiting the latrine. He knew by the way Marco’s shoulders were slumped, that Chet had likely continued the altercation against their captain’s orders. He exhaled as he walked towards his downtrodden friend, frustrated at Chet for not heeding his earlier advice to simply let it go. He slowed his pace as he approached Marco, unsure of what had just transpired. 

“That little twerp just can’t leave it alone, huh?” Mike asked, referring to Chet.

Marco looked up, but away from Mike, staring instead at the brick wall at the back of the parking lot. “You told him, didn’t you?”

Mike felt the sting of Marco’s words, unsure if he was referring to Chet or Captain Stanley. “Told who what?”

“Damn, Mike. You’re starting to sound like John.” Marco stood up, leaning against the metal poles for support as he faced his engineer. “You told Cap about Lexi, didn’t you?”

“No… Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?” The older man questioned, raising his eyebrows. “Well, what EXACTLY did you tell him?”

Mike shifted his feet, unconsciously grinding them into the cement. “Just that you were having some… some family issues.”

“Humph, yea, like… My sister’s a damn whore, right?”

“NO,” Mike grunted, his teeth clenched tightly, poising himself with both hands on his hips.

“Bullshit,” Marco huffed. “I know Cap as well as you do. You had to tell him something.”

“I told him you were having difficulties at home, but I didn’t say what.” Mike could feel his own temper rising from the accusations being hurled at him.

Silence filled the air, nothing but the distant indistinct sounds of the passing cars on the 405 behind them was heard. Finally, Marco broke the uncomfortable stalemate. “Okay… I appreciate that. I,” he continued, swiping the inside corners of his eyes. I’m sorry… I – I just… I’m having a hard time with what Sabrina said the other night.”

“I know… But taking it out on Julia Hubbard isn’t going to help.”

Marco cut a quick glance at his engineer. “I’m not taking anything out on her. She’s… She’s just a little girl.”

“A little girl who might be in danger. And you blew her off,” Mike spat out, his aggravation growing.

Marco blew out his checks, his eyes dropping back down to the cement. “No I didn’t.” He finally looked in Mike’s direction, sad dark eyes filling with regret. “I was running late this morning because I stopped to put gas in my car. A couple of ladies from her neighborhood were handing out those flyers… And, I took one. I have it in my car.” He shifted his gaze away from his engineer. “I was going to keep an eye out for her when I was out looking for Lexi.”

Mike heard the depressed tone in his friend’s voice and the way he used the past tense. “WAS going to?” He questioned somewhat sarcastically. “Don’t tell me you’re giving up?”

Marco stood up, his eyes shifting downward to the cement parking lot. “No… That’s not how I meant it. I’m not giving up; not yet, anyway… But, I almost did… Then, I saw a girl that looked a lot like Lexi and… Why doesn’t she want to be found, Mike? I - I just don’t understand. And how can I make Sabrina tell me what she knows?”

“WE can’t make Sabrina tell US anything,” Mike said, emphasizing the fact that Marco was not alone on his mission. “But we keep on trying. And we keep asking Sabrina. Remember the old saying, ‘the squeaky wheel gets the grease?’ We just have to keep on squeaking until she gets tired of us.”

Marco gave his engineer a slight smile of appreciation. “She’s my sister and… No matter what she’s done, I… I can’t quit. So, I guess I’ll just keep squeaking.”

Relief flooded Mike’s soul. “Good… We’ll find her, Marco. Together… You and I… We’ll find her.”

Marco swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. He knew he had a lot of apologizing to do. “I really am sorry about what I said when you first came out here.”

“It’s okay.”

Marco finally found the courage to look at his engineer directly in the eyes. “So… What did Cap have to say?”

“Um, he wants to see you. He wanted me to come get you.”

Marco scrubbed his face with his hand. “Alright, guess I’m getting sent home then. Might as well go ahead and face the music.” He pushed himself off the hose tower, walking past Mike without looking at him as he headed for Hank’s office. He had never been in trouble before, but now his stellar record was about to become tarnished.

E!

Johnny parked the squad near the Mayfair ambulance, nodding to the two attendants who were returning to the vehicle. He then walked through the glass doors and down the hallway to the nurses’ station. 

“Mornin’, Dix.”

“Hey there, Tiger. Waiting on Roy?”

Johnny poured himself a cup of coffee then leaned over onto the base station while he waited for it to cool. “Yea, he just brought a victim in.”

“He came in with Brianna Olivier, right?”

“Um, I never got her last name,” Johnny responded, tentatively testing his coffee. “But, I do know that her first name is Brianna. She’s the same girl we brought in last week from the fire. She was pregnant then, but… Well, the baby didn’t make it.” Johnny stared at the floor repeating the names in his head. Something didn’t sound right, but he wasn’t sure what it was.

“Poor girl. I heard the call come in, but Sally took it. She’s in with Kel in treatment room four now.” Dixie tilted her head slightly, watching Johnny gazing into nothingness.

“Johnny? Are you alright?”

Johnny was jolted by the sound of his name being called. He stood up straighter just as the door of treatment room four opened and his partner walked out. “Oh, yea… Yea, Dix… I’m fine… Olivier, you said?” He looked at the head nurse with a curious expression on his face.

“That’s right.”

Johnny raised one eyebrow. “Ah, the name Olivier is…”

“Ready?” Roy questioned as he walked up to the nurses’ station, his mood still sour from the earlier conversation during roll call.

“Hmmm,” Johnny mumbled setting his coffee cup down on the counter. “Oh, yea… Yea, I’m ready.”

Dixie watched as the two men walked down the corridor and made the familiar left turn, noting that there seemed to be a little more distance between them than was usual… And a lot more silence.

Neither paramedic spoke as they each got into the cab of the squad. Their usual banter was gone, replaced by raw emotions that neither one wanted to discuss at the moment. Roy turned the key in the ignition, shifting into gear, and pulling out of the parking space. Johnny cleared his throat, uncomfortable with their earlier comments. He reached for the mic just as three beeps warned of an impending call. He picked it up preparing to respond to the question about to be asked.

“Squad 51. What’s your status?”

Johnny keyed the mic. “Squad 51, available.”

“Stand-by for a response.”

Both paramedics reached for their helmets, securing them in place. They looked straight forward, feeling the wind blowing through the open windows of the squad as the familiar tones sounded for Station 51.

 

E!

Marco slowly walked to the captain’s office, dreading the impending conversation. He found the door open, so he simply cleared his throat to announce his presence. “Ahem… You, ah, you wanted to see me?”

Hank looked up from the personnel file he had been reading. “Yes, close the door and take a seat.” He waited for his lineman to comply before proceeding. 

“Marco…”

“I know what you’re going to say, Cap. And you’re right. It’s all my fault, so… So, I’ll take whatever punishment you give me,” he said looking down at his feet. He had worked for the Los Angeles County Fire Department for seven years and up until a week ago had never been in any kind of trouble. Now, he found himself sitting in the captain’s office for the second time in as many shifts. He had escaped a reprimand the first time, but he knew that he couldn’t tempt fate twice. This time, fate would win.

Hank closed the personnel file, his head still aching from the turmoil. “I, uh, I understand from Mike that you haven’t been feeling well lately.”

Marco knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. “Sir?”

“I said,” Hank began again, emphasizing his words very carefully. “I understand from Mike that you haven’t been feeling well lately… Maybe you need to take a sick day, huh?”

“No sir… No sir, I’m not sick. I’ve been under a lot of stress lately, but…”

“You aren’t hearing me, are you, Lopez?” Hank said, pushing a blank reprimand form in his direction, allowing the lineman to see it resting on top of his personnel file. “Sometimes our tempers tend to flare when we aren’t feeling well. Maybe, if you took a sick day… A paid sick day… You might feel better when you return to work next shift.” Hank sat back, propping one elbow on the arm of his chair. “Think carefully before you give me your answer, Marco.”

Marco looked down at the reprimand form, feeling a sinking feeling in his gut. He knew he was being given the option of taking a sick day or being written up. He tried to lick his dry lips, but found his tongue had gone just as dry. “I, uh, I think…”

Before he could complete his sentence, the tones sounded.

“Cap?” Marco asked, standing quickly. “Don’t request another engine. I can do this.”

Hank listened to the information being given by Sam Lanier. They were being dispatched for a motor vehicle accident in a remote area and he knew that time was critical. He hurriedly headed for the radio to acknowledge the call, tossing his decision over his shoulder to his senior lineman. “Get your gear on.”

E!

Johnny listened to the address given, not needing to consult the map. He was familiar with the location. The desolate area was at the very edge of their district, down a dusty winding road. He had passed through there recently on a solo camping trip so he knew exactly how to get to the scene quickly.

“Take a right at the second light, Roy. It’s gonna take us at least fifteen minutes to get out there,” Johnny said, his arm resting on the window ledge of the squad.

Roy made the turn as requested. He and Johnny had been partners for over five years and he trusted the younger man’s judgment. Their earlier differences of opinion didn’t change the fact that they were the best paramedic team in the county.

Roy drove silently, his mind completely on the task at hand. He carefully rounded each curve, the dual rear wheels of the squad kicking up a trail of dust. Both men squinted their eyes in search of any signs of an accident. Finally, a recently broken sapling near the edge of the road alerted Johnny.

“There, Roy,” he nearly shouted, pointing up ahead.

Roy pulled up ahead, just north of the curve where the vehicle had gone off the road. He parked the squad in a location where it could be easily seen by oncoming traffic. Even though the area was remote, it was still traveled often enough that he wanted to give other drivers plenty of warning about the accident scene. He knew that Mike would do the same thing by pulling to a stop just south of the accident on the opposite side of the curve.

Mike drove the engine as carefully as he could along the desolate road. Ahead, he could see a faint trail of dust and knew that their paramedics were a couple of miles ahead of them. As he maneuvered around a curve, he caught a glimpse of Captain Stanley looking back at their linemen.

Hank tried not to be too obvious, but he couldn’t help keeping an eye on his feuding men. Lives may be at stake, and he hoped he hadn’t made a mistake by allowing his station to take the run.

“They’ll be alright, Cap.”

Hank turned his face to his engineer, wishing he felt the same level of confidence his second in command seemed to feel. “What makes you so sure?”

“I know them,” Mike responded as the engine continued to bounce along the unpaved road. “And so do you. Give them a chance to work it out for themselves,” he suggested. He looked straight ahead, pulling the engine to a stop along the edge of the roadway where Johnny and Roy now stood. “He needs us, Cap.”

Hank allowed Mike’s words to sink in as he reached for the microphone. “Engine 51 at scene.” 

Johnny began harnessing up, preparing to go down the side of the hill to assess the situation. At this point, they didn’t know if they were dealing with a rescue or a recovery. Roy jogged over to the engine to give an update on what they knew so far, the earlier station dispute all but forgotten. “Looks like a one-car accident. Johnny and I have been trying to get a response, but so far we can’t hear anything from below.”

“Okay, take the handy-talkies with you. Lopez, Stoker, get their lines ready. Kelly, get the stokes and start loading it up. Get a line on it so we can lower it down to them once they get down there.” Hank stood sideways so that he could keep an eye on his men and still watch for signs of life down below. 

Marco secured Roy’s line then signaled for him to go over the edge. No matter what their differences had been earlier, they were both professionals. Roy never hesitated; he trusted his shift mate completely. He reached behind him, grasping the rope in his gloved hand, then began his descent. As usual, Johnny was already a few steps ahead of him. He took the passenger’s side of the vehicle while Roy descended toward the driver’s door.

While he was watching his paramedics repelling down the hillside, Hank heard another vehicle stop and the sound of two doors opening and closing. He looked up to see his friend Vince from the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Office and an elderly gentleman walking their way.

“Are they okay?” The old man questioned, obviously worried about the occupants of the vehicle.

“This is Mr. Sanders. He called it in,” Vince explained. “Says two females passed his house at a high rate of speed about thirty minutes ago. He figured they weren’t going to make it far along this road so he followed them, seeing the trail of dust where they went over the side here. He had to go back to his house, about a mile and a half back down the road so he could call it in.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sanders. I’ve got two men on their way down to them now,” Hank replied, turning back around to watch what his men were doing, both the two who were closing in on the accident scene and the three who remained topside. The last thing he needed was a dispute breaking out between Marco and Chet now.

Johnny reached his destination, unclipping his carabiner, and stepped closer to the passenger’s side. The car had come to rest on a small plateau, allowing him to walk around freely once he reached the flatter ground. He pushed the brush away from the door and peered inside. He didn’t like what he saw, and struggled to open the door that had been damaged by the impact. After pulling on it several times, he was finally able to gain entry to assess his patient. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roy opening the back door behind the driver, and knew the driver’s side door was jammed. His hands quickly reached over the front seat, assessing his teenaged unconscious patient.

Johnny used his teeth to remove his glove then searched for any signs of life from his young female patient. “Miss… Miss, can you hear me?” He asked, concerned by the blood that had flowed down the side of her face, leaving a dark crimson stain in her auburn hair. He got no response. He used his fingers to search for her carotid pulse, feeling a sense of urgency when he found what he was looking for. She was still alive, but her breathing was shallow and her eyes were swelling shut. He checked her pupillary response while he could still pry them open, noting that the right pupil was blown. “C’mon, sweetheart… Can you hear me?” He continued talking as he finished up his initial assessment, struggling to complete the task. His victim had obviously been thrown against the windshield, causing quite a bit of facial lacerations, and a concussion, or worse.

Roy began his assessment, holding up his weight with one knee at the edge of the back seat, while he contorted his upper torso over the bench seat to check out his young patient. He thought he saw a slight rise and fall of his victim’s chest, although it was covered with blood dripping off her face. A quick check confirmed that she was alive, but barely. The impact had caused her to slam into the steering wheel, breaking the steering column. The dash had folded in on top of her when the front of the car impacted the hard surface of the ground. 

“Whatcha got, Roy?”

“She’s alive, but we’ve got to get her out of here quick. I really can’t get to her until you get yours out.”

Johnny keyed up the mic on his handy-talkie. “HT 51 to engine 51.”

“Go ahead, Johnny.”

“Cap, we got two victims. Females. We’re gonna need help gettin’ ‘em outta here. They’re in bad shape.”

Marco and Chet turned at the sound of Johnny’s distressed voice. Both noted the look they received from their captain and they jumped into action.

“I’ve got Lopez and Kelly on their way down. Mike and I will send down the equipment. What do ya need?”

Roy heard the question and gave his partner a worried glance. “Man power. I think we can get your victim out easily enough, but mine looks like she’s wedged in there pretty tight.”

“Yea… Let’s get mine out, then we can take her out on the passenger’s side.” He looked at his partner, waiting for some indication of agreement. When he saw Roy nod his head, he keyed up the handy-talkie. “Cap, we just need additional manpower along with the stokes, backboards, and trauma box, and a pry bar. We’ll have to get them up top to do more than stop the bleedin’. Uh, Cap… Is there a law enforcement officer up there?”

“Affirmative.”

“He may need him to assume custody, they’re young.”

Hank looked over at Vince, seeing him give a quick acknowledging wave.

“10-4,” Hank responded, waving for Mike’s help as Marco and Chet prepared to go down the hill. “Vince, call for a couple of ambulances, will ya? Then we’re gonna need your help getting these victims up this hill.”

“You got it,” the officer responded, opening the door of his patrol car and reaching in for the microphone.

Marco used Roy’s line to guide him down, carrying the trauma box with him. He looked up and saw Chet following him over the edge, using Johnny’s line for support. He carried the smaller backboard with him, knowing that Mike would send the larger one down in the stokes. 

“Whatcha need, Roy?” Marco asked as he stepped onto the plateau and released his grip on the rope.

Roy looked at Marco, noting the intensity in the lineman’s eyes. Neither man was thinking of anything except extricating their victim.

“Get me a C-collar. We need to get Johnny’s victim out first. We aren’t going to be able to move this one until that one is out,” he said, nodding his head in the direction of the passenger.

Chet heard Roy’s request and quickly kneeled down, opening the trauma box. 

“Get me a C-collar, too,” Johnny ordered. “And the backboard.”

“Here,” Marco offered, reaching down beside Chet. “Help Johnny. I’ll help Roy get the other one out. These kids don’t have much time.”

“Yea… I can tell,” Chet said, rushing to aid Johnny in the removal of the first victim. As soon as the passenger was out, Marco slid across the seat, assisting Roy with the C- collar. He knew the paramedic was getting tired, having been twisted over the bench seat trying to keep the patient’s head and neck as stable as possible while the first victim had been extricated. 

“Be careful, Marco. I’m not sure what kind of damage she’s got. I can’t really do much of an assessment from here,” Roy complained. 

Marco adjusted the C-collar, stabilizing the young girl’s neck. “Okay, she’s… Ohmygod!”

“What?” Roy asked, fearing the worst.

Chet and Johnny managed to get their victim secured in the stokes Mike had brought down. “Can you take her up?” Chet asked, knowing he needed to return to help Roy and Marco. 

“Yea, we’ve got her,” Mike agreed, exchanging places with Chet and assisting Johnny in getting the victim to the top of the hill. 

Chet then returned to the wreckage just in time to hear Marco’s explanation to Roy. 

“This is her… the girl on the poster.” He increased the volume of his voice, yet softened it for his young victim. “Julia? Julia can you hear me?” Marco asked, hoping to get some kind of response from the young girl.

“This is the girl from this morning? She’s only thirteen; why was she driving?” Chet questioned; his words rambling as he used a pry bar to pop open the jammed driver’s side door.

“Doesn’t matter, Chet. Right now, we’ve got to get her out of here. She’s running out of time,” Roy stated firmly.

It took the three men several minutes of maneuvering to secure her to the backboard, but soon they were on their way up the side of the hill with young Julia Hubbard in tow. Roy and Chet exchanged confused glances as they carried the girl to the squad. Both realized that Marco had recognized the girl from the poster. The same poster that he had refused to look at during roll call. They didn’t have but a split second to ponder how he knew about Julia. As soon as they set her on the ground, Roy jumped into full paramedic mode.  
Immediately, Mike was on the biophone with Rampart and Hank was opening the IV box, searching for the supplies Dr. Early was ordering. The two paramedics worked at a feverish pace, establishing IV’s, administering ordered medications, and securing stacks of 4 by 4’s to lacerations to slow down the blood loss. By the time they had taped down the IV’s, the sound of sirens was heard in the distance. 

They loaded the girls up into separate ambulances, each one accompanied by a paramedic. Hank closed the doors of each ambulance, pounding the back door with two hard knocks to alert the driver that they were ready to go. 

“Marco?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Take the squad in and pick up those two, will ya?” Hank asked, pleased with how well his crew had responded to this call in spite of the earlier altercation. Now, he had to decide what to do with them once they all returned to quarters.

E!

Marco carefully made a three-point turn on the narrow dirt road, careful not to let the rear wheels of the squad go over the edge. He was in enough trouble with his captain without adding wrecking the squad to his list of transgressions. He lined the vehicle up with the road and followed the retreating ambulances. The dust trail was thick, so he slowed down significantly. There was no hurry to get the squad to the hospital like there was for the ambulances.

The long trip gave him time to think about all that had transpired since the shift began. He had made several mistakes since he arrived at work. He had been rude to his co-workers and short with his captain. He had nearly incited a riot during roll call by making comments about race. He knew in his heart that his co-workers had never treated him or John differently based on their heritage, but that wasn’t always the case. He knew that all too well. His mind then turned to the victims they had just rescued, especially the younger one. Her parents had been worried sick while she was gone; that was a feeling he and his family knew well. Now, the young girl was fighting for her life with Roy at her side, and her parents had no idea that she was even alive. He just hoped that the child would still be alive when her parents were notified that she had been located.

E!

Alexia Lopez bit her fingernails as the bus she was riding bounced along West Carson Street. Her heart skipped a beat as two ambulances, lights flashing and sirens wailing, passed by her window. She knew they were likely headed to the same place she was going – Rampart General Hospital. She thought about the kind young men who had answered her call for help when she had found her roommate bleeding from a self-inflicted injury just a few hours earlier. She hoped that the people in the back of those ambulances were receiving the same kind of care that Brianna had received. The bus rumbled through another stop with people getting on and a couple disembarking. Finally, it came to a stop at the corner of West Carson Street and South Vermont Avenue. She stepped off the bus, heading for the entrance to the hospital just as a red squad rounded the corner, heading for the emergency entrance. She wasn’t able to see the driver, but she recognized the number on the door. It was squad 51; the same one that had responded to her call for help. She thought again about the young man with dark hair who had been so kind to her before he left her apartment. Without a second thought, she walked around to the back of the building, hoping to have the opportunity to speak to him on her way to see Brianna. She wanted to thank him for all he and his partner had done for her roommate. Gratitude was something she rarely felt, anymore. Normally, when she was in the presence of a man, she felt cheap and dirty. But the paramedics had made her feel… Normal? Respected? She couldn’t quite find the word for how they made her feel. All she knew was that it felt good, and she wanted to let them know that she appreciated it. Then, she would have to face Brianna and all the demons who seemed to be determined to destroy her.

She reached the place where the sidewalk turned toward the emergency entrance and looked up just as the driver of the squad turned his back to her and walked through the emergency entrance. He looked a little shorter and heavier than she remembered, but she had been very upset back at her apartment when they had met. She looked at the number on the door of the squad again, confirming that it was Squad 51, then headed for the place where she had seen him enter the building. She knew this might be her only chance to tell the paramedic how much she appreciated what he and his partner had done.


	9. Chapter 9

Warning: extreme language

 

Chapter 9

Marco walked through the glass doors into the emergency department looking for his comrades. As he made the right turn heading down the corridor, he saw Johnny leaning against the wall in the hallway between treatment rooms. The paramedic stood on one foot with the other propped against the wall behind him. His shoulders were slouching, and he had both hands deep inside his pants pockets. The dejected look on his face told Marco the news.

“She didn’t make it, did she?”

Johnny looked up, his hair disheveled and face smudged with dust mixed with sweat. He shook his head sorrowfully. “No… Doc said her head injury was too severe. She, ah… She coded just before we got here and…,” he hesitated, blowing out his breath. “We couldn’t get her back.”

“I’m sorry, John,” Marco offered. “You did your best.”

“We all did, Marco.” He turned to face the lineman, leaning a shoulder against the wall. “She was only 22 years old. Her name was Peggy.”

Marco waited, sensing that Johnny wasn’t finished with his statement.

“She was wearin’ this little purse across her chest and… Hell, there was so much blood, I didn’t even notice it at first, but… It had her driver’s license in it. Doc’s talkin’ to Vince now.”

“I guess he’ll have to notify her family.”

Marco’s statement faded as the door beside them opened up. Roy saw the look on the faces of both men and knew immediately what had happened.

“Your patient didn’t make it?” Asked the red-haired paramedic.

Johnny shook his head. “Yours?”

“Hanging in there. Dr. Brackett’s still working on her. As soon as an OR opens up, she’ll be taken upstairs.” He rubbed his chin with his hand thoughtfully. “If she makes it, she’ll… She’ll have a very long recovery.”

“Damn,” Marco mumbled, pushing away from the wall. “Have her parents been notified?”

“I don’t know. I guess Vince is handling that part,” Roy responded. “Johnny, why don’t we go check on Brianna. I could use some good news right now.”

Johnny and Marco both nodded, then the three of them turned heading for the nurses’ station. Marco wasn’t sure who Brianna was, but the distraction would delay his receiving of Captain Stanley’s punishment for his roll call melee.

Roy aimed his next question at Marco. “How’d you know it was her?” The paramedic raised his hand to ward off any negative comments from his two shift mates. “I’m not trying to start anything, Marco. I was just wondering how you knew it was the missing girl. You didn’t even look at her picture this morning,” Roy asked.

Marco scrubbed his hand across his face. He deserved whatever Roy threw at him, yet, he knew the man was only asking a simple question, not picking a fight. “I, uh… I have a copy of the flyer in my car. I’d already seen it.”

Roy and Johnny exchanged confused glances. Johnny was about to ask a question when they walked in front of the nurses’ station. Dixie spoke up from her perch behind the counter.

“Hey, fellas. I thought you’d like to know that the young lady you brought in here this morning has been sent up to the fifth floor.”

“She’s stable?” Johnny asked.

“Physically, yes… Mentally, no,” the head nurse spoke in her sultry smoky voice.

“We were coming over to ask about her. We kind of hoped we could check in on her,” Roy explained.

“I’m sure she could use a friend right now,” Dixie remarked. She could tell that the men in front of her had experienced a difficult rescue by the way their shoulders seemed to sag with an unseen weight. She surmised that Brianna might not be the only one who needed a friend at the moment.

The three men gave her halfhearted smiles as they turned towards the elevators. Johnny reached the silver metallic doors first, reaching out his finger and pushing the up arrow. The door immediately opened revealing an empty car. Marco stepped inside first turning around just as the paramedics stepped inside in front of him.  
Johnny pushed the button for the fifth floor then looked up in time to see a dark-haired woman heading quickly down the corridor in their direction.

“Mr. Gage? Mr. DeSoto?” She called out just as a familiar face looked up at her from behind the two paramedics. She stopped suddenly, shocked at whom she was seeing. “Ugh-um.”

Marco locked eyes with Lexi just as the elevator doors closed. He pushed his way between the paramedics slamming his open hand against the closed doors, trying desperately to pry them apart with his bare hands. Johnny was busy jabbing the ‘open’ button, but his efforts were in vain.

“Sonofabitch!” Marco shouted, startling his crew mates. “Open this fucking door!”

“I’m tryin’, Marco. It’s too late. What’s the matter with you?” Johnny questioned, harshly.

“I’ve got to talk to her,” the older man grunted out through clenched teeth.

“Who? Miss LeRoux?” Johnny asked, jerking his thumb at the elevator door, having recognized the woman from their first run of the day.

Marco was too incensed to hear the name Johnny had called out. He slammed his hands against the doors again as the elevator slowed its upward progress.

Roy pulled Marco back away from the door. “Take it easy. Now, what the hell’s going on?” He asked, pulling the hysterical man back just as the door opened on the fifth floor.

In a rush of blinding madness, Marco shot out of the elevator and headed for the stairs. He had to get back down to the emergency department. For the first time in almost five years, he had looked into the eyes of his sister and nothing was going to get in his way of finding her again.

Roy and Johnny rushed out behind him, following their frantic coworker into the stairwell. A visit with Brianna would have to wait.

“Hey, Marco! Hold up!” Johnny called out, bounding down the first flight of stairs on the heels of his lineman. He watched as the older man continued winding his way down from floor to floor as if the entire building was about to flash over. As they neared the second floor landing, Marco’s sense of urgency got the better of him and he jumped over the last four steps stumbling awkwardly on the landing.

“Aughhh!” He groaned as he slammed against the stairwell wall. “Damn it!”

“Hold on!” Johnny huffed, blocking the limping man from the next set of stairs. “Take it easy.”

“Get out of my way, John.”

“No,” Roy panted, joining his partner’s stance. “You tell us what’s going on, and then maybe we’ll get out of your way.”

“Move it!” Marco tried to push past them, but the pain in his ankle hindered his progress. “Shit!” He groaned in pain, teeth clenched. “You’re letting her get away!”

“Get away from what?” Johnny asked. “She’s prob’bly just here to visit her roommate. That’s Miss LeRoux, Brianna Olivier’s roommate.”

“No, no… That was …. W-Who?” Marco didn’t realize how close he came to revealing who the young woman was, but the name Johnny had just spoken shocked him.

“Miss LeRoux, um,… Hell, I can’t remember her first name. Somethin’ like Alex, Alexandria, or somethin’, but how do you know her?”

Marco sank back against the wall, his heart crushed. It had been a long time since he had seen his sister or heard her voice. Had he just made a monumental mistake? “I - I guess… I don’t know her.” The adrenaline surge he had experienced began to wane, and Marco slid down the wall into a trembling heap, his ankle beginning to throb and swell. “How do you know her?”

“You really weren’t listening earlier, were you?” Roy questioned. “Remember Brianna? The suicide attempt we rolled on this morning?”

Marco nodded his head, resting his forehead in his hand to cover his eyes.

“Well, that was Brianna’s roommate.”

Marco felt his entire body go limp. He had been so sure of the young woman’s identity. Now, his shift mates were making him question what he had seen and heard. Regardless, the anxiety of the situation, and the doubt the paramedics were creating, made him realize that he wasn’t sure of anything, not even his own sanity. He rubbed his hand across his face, smoothing his mustache. “I’m… I’m sorry fellas.”

“What had you so freaked out?” Johnny asked, reaching a hand out to help his lineman up.

Marco’s crushed spirit appeared on his darkened face. “Nothing… I - I made a mistake.” He accepted Johnny’s hand, grimacing when he tried to put weight on his ankle.

“Whoa,” Roy spoke up, gently placing a hand on Marco’s chest. “What did you hurt?”

“Ankle. It’s just a little stiff. I’m alright, DeSoto,” Marco explained. He thought about his captain’s offer of a sick day, and knew that now he was going to definitely need it. “Um, why don’t we go back up and visit with… Brianna, you said?” Marco really wanted to get a better look at Miss LeRoux. He wanted to make sure that the young woman wasn’t his wayward sister.

“No, we’ll catch her later. You need to get that ankle checked-out,” Roy stated.

“No, no… I’ll be fine,” Marco said, feeling the sharp pain shooting up his leg as he tried to walk normally.

“C’mon, fellas.”

Roy and Johnny exchanged confused looks. This time, Johnny tried to convince the stubborn lineman.

“Cut it out, man. We’re gonna take you down to the ER for an x-ray.”

“Like hell,” Marco mumbled, trying to push past the two insistent paramedics, shocking them by his uncharacteristic language.

Roy used both hands to push Marco against the wall. Johnny took a step to the side, effectively blocking Marco from going up or down the stairs. He was about to raise his voice back at the upset lineman when a familiar voice was heard from the bottom stairwell.

“Is everything alright up there?”

Roy and Marco were locked in a stare leaving neither of them to witness Johnny’s smug smirk. He had never been happier to hear the voice of Dr. Early.

“Uh, yea… Yea, we’re a’right. Marco twisted his ankle, though. Roy and I were just helpin’ him down to the ER for an x-ray.” Johnny paused, waiting for Marco to look at him. “Right, Marco?”

Marco pressed his lips into a thin line. His breathing was rapid, and his eyes were hurling daggers at the younger paramedic. “Don’t do this, Gage.”

“Come on, Johnny,” Roy stated, turning slightly to ensure that his voice was heard by the gray-haired physician.

“Let’s get him down.”

Marco flared his nostrils, knowing that his plan for going back upstairs had just been thwarted by the kindly doctor.

“I’ll have Dixie set up a treatment room and contact Malcolm,” Joe explained. “Marco, I’ll be waiting for you,” he said, pulling open the door and heading back into the corridor of the emergency room. He didn’t know what he had interrupted, but he knew it was more than just a couple of paramedics assisting a fellow firefighter down a flight of stairs.

“I swear, you have NO idea what you’re doing,” the lineman grunted.

Johnny wrapped an arm around Marco’s waist, pulling the injured man’s arm across his shoulder. “Well, why don’t you tell us?”

Roy mirrored Johnny’s stance with their lineman, waiting to see if Marco might disclose any information to explain his strange behavior. Instead, all he got was a frustrated sigh as they made their way down the final flight of stairs and headed for a treatment room.

E!

Lexi hurriedly made her way back to the bus stop, tears streaming down her face. He had recognized her and she knew it. Now, it was only a matter of time before he found her apartment. If her brother knew the two paramedics who had responded to her call for help this morning, then they might tell him where she lived. She couldn’t allow that to happen, no matter how badly she wanted to see him and the rest of her family. She wrapped her arms around her thin mid-section, hugging herself to still her trembling arms. She allowed the tears to flow freely, smearing her face with make-up. She sat watching a fast food wrapper being blown about from the cars speeding past her, feeling as used and worthless as the garbage that was being run over then tossed in front of the next tire, in a never ending line of traffic. She had spent the last four years being used, run over, and thrown aside like she was nothing but a piece of rubbish. She missed the father she had buried far too young. She missed her protective older brothers, especially their corny jokes. She missed her mother’s hugs, and home cooked meals of comfort. And more than anything, she missed the little boy who was growing up without her.

“Antonio,” she cried. “I’m sooo sorry, baby. Mama’s so sorry,” she whispered, sniffling alone in her seat on the bench.

She dried her eyes with the tips of her fingers, smudging the already streaking mascara. She was glad no one else was waiting for the bus. She cast a quick glance around the area looking for squad cars, knowing that talking to herself might draw the attention of a police officer. She had met enough of them during her time on the streets. She didn’t want to be harassed today by the fuzz. In fact, she didn’t want to be harassed by anyone else, ever again. Slowly, she began rocking back and forth. “Oh, Bri… Maybe you had the right idea. Maybe that is the only way out of this hell.”

E!

Johnny and Roy stood outside of treatment room 3, waiting for Malcolm to finish the x-rays. Neither man knew what to say to the other, each one’s mind trying to sort out the details of what had happened since they had arrived for this strange shift.

“So, who do you think he thought she was?” Johnny asked, breaking the nervous silence.

“I don’t know… But whoever it is… He sure was upset by it,” Roy mused, just as three beeps alerted them to another potential call.

Johnny held up the handy-talkie to respond to dispatch while Roy quickly stepped over to the nurses’ station to inform Dr. Early and Dixie of their predicament.

“Hey, Doc… We’ve got another call to go on. Will you let Marco know we’ll pick him up when we come back in, and Dix, will you call the station and let Cap know that he’s going to need to call in a replacement for Marco?”

“Sure, Roy,” Dixie spoke up.

“I’ll let him know,” Dr. Early announced, seeing Malcolm exiting the treatment room. “I’m going to check on him now.”

The kindly physician followed the exiting paramedics down the corridor, stepping into treatment room three as the other two men continued out to the squad. When he entered the exam room, he was met by the red-rimmed dark eyes of Marco. He reached for the ice pack that had been removed to take x-rays, placing it back on the injured ankle of his patient.

“Can I go now, Doc?”

“How long have you been under such extreme stress?” Dr. Early questioned, reviewing the lineman’s chart. “Your weight is down, your blood pressure is up, and,” he closed the manila folder. “Overall, you look like hell, Marco.” Joe Early didn’t mention the bits of heated conversation he had overheard in the stairwell.

“That’s it,” Marco began, pushing himself up from the table, reaching for his sock and boot which had been removed for the examination. “I don’t need a doctor to chastise me about my appearance.” He removed the ice pack, tossing it onto the counter nearest the exam table.

“This has nothing to do with your appearance. It has to do with your health. Now, why don’t you just lie back down and let me check your vitals again. Besides, we need to wait on the films to make sure you don’t have a fracture. If you do then you’ll be going to the cast room. If you don’t, then we’ll still need to wrap it.” The gray-haired physician gently pushed the frustrated man back into a supine position.

“You can’t keep me here against my will.”

Dr. Early calmly placed the earpieces of his stethoscope into his ears, and pumped up the blood pressure cuff. “No, you’re right about that. I can only do that if your mental status is compromised.” He twisted the valve,

releasing the pressure on the lineman’s arm. He listened carefully until he could no longer hear a heartbeat and noted the readings. “And since your mental status isn’t compromised, then you’re free to go.”

“But?” Marco knew there was more the older man was going to say.

“But…,” Joe hesitated, reaching for his patient’s wrist to get an updated pulse reading. “I do have the power to recommend that Hank pull you off shift if I feel that your health is in jeopardy or that you can’t complete your shift.”

Marco rolled his eyes. “And let me guess. If I leave AMA, then you’ll say that my health is in jeopardy?”

“Well,” the doctor smiled warmly, realizing that he had the attention of his patient. “If you leave against medical advice, then you bet I will. Marco, I’m your friend as well as your physician. This is more than just the normal stress of the life of a hose jockey, isn’t it?”

Marco scrubbed his face with his hand. “Doc, please…. Just, let me leave, alright? It’s just a sprain.”

“Let’s negotiate your discharge, shall we?” The older man offered.

“Negotiate?”

“Yes… I’ll release you from this fine establishment,” he grinned, sweeping his arm around the room, “and give you a work excuse for the next shift.”

“And what do I have to do to secure this lucrative offer?” Marco asked, his voice laced in sarcasm.

“You get some rest, and…,” the physician knew his next statement would not be well-received. “And you see the department counselor for whatever it is that’s bothering you.”

“No, thank you, Doc.” Marco again sat up on the exam table. “That’s an offer I can definitely refuse. I don’t need to see some shrink to lower my blood pressure. I’m in pain from my ankle injury. That raises blood pressure… I’m not an idiot….,” he mumbled, leaning over to pull his sock over his swollen ankle. “And I damn sure am not crazy.”

“No one said you were an idiot or that you were crazy, Marco. All I’m saying is that there are times in our lives when we need someone to talk to, to help us sort things out. Now, I can’t force you to do anything. But, I know you’re a smart man. You’re strong both physically and mentally. And I’m counting on that strength to help you make the best informed decision for your future.” Joe Early looked at his patient, intently. “I cannot allow you, or anyone else, to work with an ankle like that… Or, this blood pressure reading,” he said, tapping his index finger on the manila file. “I’m going to write you a medical excuse for the remainder of this shift and the next… And, I’ll write that it’s due to your ankle injury, IF the x-rays show no sign of fracture.” He placed his hand on Marco’s shoulder and continued in his calmest, most supportive voice. “We both know that speaking to the departmental counselor is a free, and extremely private, service. I trust that when you come back for me to recheck that ankle and release you for work, that you’ll be feeling much better, both physically and mentally.”

“And if it’s only a sprain, and I come back in just a few days, what happens if I’m not feeling better?”

“Then I trust that you will have made the proper arrangements to get yourself back on track. It won’t happen overnight. So, all I’ll be looking for is movement in the right direction,” the physician offered.

“In other words, an appointment?” Marco mumbled, trying to return his boot to his foot, only to be hampered by the swelling. “Argh.”

“No, I’ll be checking to make sure the swelling is down, you’re bearing weight on the ankle, and your vitals are normal.” The kindly older man then turned to retrieve the ice pack and replace it on the swollen ankle. “The rest is up to you. Now, just sit tight while I check those films… And leave that boot off and the ice on.” He turned to walk away, then spun back around quickly on his heels. “Oh, and by the way, Dix has called the station to let Hank know you’ll be needing a replacement, and John and Roy got called out. They said they’d pick you up when they come back by.”

“Ugh,” Marco groaned as he laid back down on the exam table, reluctantly accepting his fate. He blew out his cheeks, resting the back of his hand across his forehead covering his eyes, his mind drifting back to the young woman he had glimpsed in the emergency department corridor earlier. Was it Lexi? Or, was he so desperate to find her that his exhausted mind was playing tricks on him? One thing he knew for sure, he had to get up to the fifth floor to talk to Brianna, and with any luck, get a good look at her roommate, the young woman whom he still thought might be his sister.

E!

Lexi continued to sit alone at the bus stop, waving on the two buses that had stopped to pick her up. She thought again about her roommate, her friend who had preferred taking her own life to living the life they were both trapped in. The sound of a siren jerked her attention to the emergency entrance of the hospital. Squad 51 turned left at the stop sign, driving swiftly away from her towards another rescue. She watched it disappear, and assumed that Marco was inside along with the two paramedics.

“Good-bye, Marco,” she whispered to herself, just as a slamming car door jolted her back from her reverie.

“What the hell are ya doin’ out here, Lex?”

Her spine stiffened, and her stomach lurched. This was the voice she feared more than anything else, and from his tone, she could tell that he was angry. “I - I just came to check on Bri.”

“She don’t need you. Now get in the car!”

“But, she’s my f-friend,” Lexi cried, feeling like a scolded toddler.

“Friend? Ha! You don’t have no friends. I’m the only one that gives a damn about you. You’re just a pathetic whore. The only thing you’re good for is lying on your back!”

She sniffled, once more feeling like the tiny pieces of garbage amid the rushing tires of traffic. “Please don’t, Ricardo. Please?”

“Damn, girl. Why do make me treat you like this? All I asked you to do was stay home and get some rest. I need ya to be fresh tonight. Your customers don’t wantcha actin’ all tired and shit.”

“I know, but I just wanted to check on her for a few minutes,” Lexi said, trying to reason with the man.

“You think she’d check on you? Hell no! Now, shut up your sniveling and get in the car. You make me crazy, you know that?”

“I’m s-sorry,” the trembling young woman cried.

“Yea, yea… You always say you’re sorry, but then you go and disobey me again. I hate punishin’ you, but you know the rules. If ya could just follow the rules, then this wouldn’t happen. It’s your fault, ya know?”

“I know… I’m trying to be… g-good, but…”

“But you just can’t, can you?” The tall dark-haired man smirked. He stared at her, allowing his words to hit their mark before switching his tactic. “C’mere,” he leaned against the car, reaching out his arms to her. “I know you ain’t got nobody. I know ya get lonely and shit, but ya know I’m gonna look out for ya, right?”

Lexi nodded, slowly standing and walking towards the man she both loved and hated. “We’ve gotta stick to the plan. You’re makin’ money and I’m puttin’ some of it away for ya. I’m just helpin’ ya out like your old man woulda done if hadn’t got killed. You know, puttin’ money back so you’ll have somethin’ when you’re old enough to be independent. Just a couple more years and you’ll be able to make it on your own. But right now, ya just ain’t ready. I mean, who’s gonna get ya outta jail when ya get busted, huh?”

“I know,” she muttered, staring down at the ground in front of him. She had learned a long time ago that cops arrested prostitutes, not their pimps. She was the criminal, not Ricardo. Instead, he was the one who bailed her out, protected her. An activity that always deepened her debt to him, and forced her back out on the streets in a never ending cycle.

“Who’s gonna go bustin’ up those bastards that mistreat ya and don’t pay ya, huh? Jus’ me. I’m all ya got, girl. And, I can’t do it for free. It’s hard work.”

He reached out with his long thin fingers, lifting her chin until she was looking directly into his eyes. “That’s my girl. You love me, don’tcha?”

She nodded, unable to speak.

“You know I’m only doin’ what’s best for ya, right?”

Again, she merely nodded, not even realizing that his words were constant contradictions.

“Alright, get in the car and we’ll go back to my place so you can make it up to me,” he ordered, opening the car door and carefully pushing her inside. He didn’t want to draw any attention by being rough with her. He’d have his chance when he got her back to his house.

E!

Half an hour later, Marco lay on the exam table, his swollen and bruising ankle being wrapped with a bandage.

“Alright,” Dr. Early began. “That ought to do it.” He clipped the beige Ace bandage in place. “Now, Dixie will be bringing you a pair of crutches and then you’ll be free to go. I want you to stay off of that ankle for the next forty-eight hours, bathroom privileges only. Keep it elevated above your heart to help with the swelling. Ice will help with that, too.” He looked up to see his charge staring into nothingness. “Marco?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you listening to my discharge instructions?” The physician asked.

“Yes, I am. Elevate, ice, no weight… I got it, Doc.”

“Very well… Think about what I said, alright?” Dr. Early encouraged, his kindly face and voice soothing his patient.

Marco looked away briefly, nodding his affirmation. “I will. Thanks… I really appreciate… Um, everything.” Marco ran a hand through his sweaty hair. “I’ll… I hope to have better vitals when I come back for my medical release check.”

Dr. Early smiled, lighting up his round face. “I hope so.”

The exam room door opened up and Dixie walked in carrying a pair of wooden crutches with her. “Ever used a pair of these before?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” the fireman responded.

“Well then, I guess you don’t need any lessons,” she stated warmly, leaning the crutches against the exam table. “Why don’t you give them a try and head on to the staff lounge. Joe did tell you that Johnny and Roy got called out on another run, right?”

Marco nodded, cutting his eyes at the grinning physician.

“You don’t trust me to relay messages, Dix?”

Dixie gave Dr. Early a flirty grin in response to his question. She then returned her pretty blue gaze back to the injured fireman. “Anyway, they’re assisting with a motor vehicle accident with entrapment. They haven’t gotten the victim out yet, so it’ll be a little while before they get back here.”

Marco accepted the crutches, gingerly sliding off the exam table, and propping them in his armpits. “Actually, I think I’ll go check on Brianna. We, uh, we didn’t quite make it before.”

Dixie gave him a knowing smile. She heard Dr. Early clear his throat behind her, interrupting the question that was on the tip of her tongue. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate that. I’ll tell them where you are when they get here,” the sassy nurse offered.

Dr. Early held the door open for the lineman who awkwardly made his way through it, making a left turn towards the elevators. He held it open for his favorite emergency room nurse, but she stood staring at him with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Wanna tell me what you know?”

“About what?” Dr. Early replied, feigning innocence.

“Oh, don’t give me that doctor-patient confidence crap. You know what happened to him, don’t you?” She raised an eyebrow, reminding the older doctor of a certain paramedic.

Joe knew how stern Dixie could be, but he also knew she had a heart of gold, especially for firemen. She was worried about Marco, not being nosy. “Actually, I know exactly what happened to him, Dix. He sprained his ankle.”

“You’re impossible, Joe. I don’t know whose worse, you or Kel,” she remarked, charging through the open doorway, a slight smile on her face. She loved the men she worked with, both those in white lab coats and those in sooty turnout coats. She had known the gray-haired man wouldn’t divulge what he knew, if anything, about the lineman’s uncharacteristic behavior. He was a true professional. But, she also knew that while he didn’t reveal any confidential information about his private conversation with Marco, his face was calm and relaxed, and his demeanor was a bit jovial. That told her that he had made progress with the fireman, and that was all the information she was hoping for.

E!

Brianna was in a lightly sedated sleep, when a knock on her door awakened her. “Um, c-come in,” she croaked out, her voice gravelly and her throat dry.

“Brianna?” Marco called out, his head sticking slightly inside the room.

“Hmmm?”

“Hi, my name’s Marco. I, uh, I work with the paramedics who brought you in earlier,” he said, hobbling into the room, disappointed when he realized the room was empty except for the young patient. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“T-tired,” she mumbled, drifting back to sleep.

Marco hung his head. He had not found the person he had hoped might be in the room. He looked back up at the dark-haired woman, noting her olive complexion contrasting with the heavy white bandages on her arm. He wondered if Lexi was feeling as hopeless as this young woman, praying that his mother’s sense of urgency wasn’t a premonition of a similar act, one that would permanently separate Lexi from the rest of her family. He watched Brianna sleep for a few moments, then turned and headed back out of the room, his heart sinking as he made his way back to the elevator. He needed a cup of coffee, and since he had nowhere to go until Roy and John returned, he decided to wait for them in the staff lounge just as Dixie had suggested.

E!

John and Roy were released from the scene after their entrapped victim was determined to be deceased. They dejectedly climbed into the cab of the squad and began their victimless journey back to Rampart. It was just before noon and already, both men were feeling the weight of losing two patients so far this shift. A third victim was fighting for her life in an operating room while the fourth didn’t want the life they had saved for her.

“Man, this shift sucks!” Johnny mumbled, squinting his eyes against the sun as they headed down Carson Street.

“Yes, it does. And now we’ve got to figure out what’s going on with Lopez,” Roy responded.

“Why don’t we run by the station and get his car. Then I can drive it to his house, and you can pick me up there.” Johnny recommended, his elbow propped on the open window ledge, the wind whipping through his dark tresses.

“Good point. Dr. Early said he wasn’t going to be released back to work for this shift.” Roy took the next right turn, heading back to the station. “I just hope he didn’t break that ankle.”

The duo arrived at the station finding the engine parked on the apron with Chet and Mike mopping the apparatus bay. Roy parked the squad beside the engine and the paramedics got out. Mike walked over to the two paramedics while Chet dumped out the dirty water from the mop bucket.

“So, what happened to Lopez?” The tall engineer asked.

“I wish we knew,” Roy responded, leaning over the hood of the squad.

“We were just headin’ up to check on Brianna Olivier, the suicide attempt from this morning,” Johnny clarified, realizing that Mike wouldn’t know who Brianna was. “Anyway, Brianna’s roommate saw us gettin’ in the elevator and called out to us. When Marco saw her, he just flipped out.”

“Flipped out?”

“Yea, I had already pressed the button to close the door, and I couldn’t get it open again. He started pounding on the elevator doors, tryin’ to pull’em apart with his hands. Once we got to the fifth floor, he shot outta the elevator like a bullet, and ran for the stairs.” Johnny shook his head as he remembered the look on his friend’s face. “Stoker, he was like a mad man. He ran down the stairs with us chasin’ him,” he tilted his head in Roy’s direction, “and at the second floor landing, he jumped over the last few steps, and injured his ankle.”

“It was the only way we were able to stop him,” Roy added.

“Anyway, he thought he knew Miss LeRoux, Brianna’s roommate, and… Hell, I can’t imagine who he thought she was, but it made him freak out.”

“We don’t know if his ankle is broken or sprained, but he won’t be back for this shift. Johnny and I came by to get his car, and then take him home,” Roy explained, tapping the hood of the squad as he stepped back away from it. “I’m going to let Cap know what we’re gonna do.”

“We’re still waiting for his replacement to get here. You fellas are still available. Why don’t you let Chet and I pick him up, and take him and his car home?”

“That makes sense,” Roy stated. “I’ll let Cap know.” The older paramedic turned, walking towards the captain’s office.

As soon as Roy was out of hearing range, Mike couldn’t resist asking the question that was hounding him. “So, what did this Miss LeRoux look like?”

Johnny looked at his engineer curiously. “She’s Chicano, straight dark hair, and…,” Johnny’s voice trailed off as he stared, unseeing, at the cement apron.

“And?” Mike asked, encouraging the paramedic whose mouth was hanging agape.

“LeRoux… It isn’t a Chicano name. And… And neither is Olivier,” Johnny mumbled.

“No… They sound French to me. Why?” Mike asked, unsure where Johnny’s mind was going.

“Both of them are Chicano, but they have French names. That’s weird, huh?” Johnny mused.

The comment piqued Mike’s interest even more. “It’s unusual.”

Johnny looked up at the blue-eyed man standing near him. “Not as unusual as what Brianna did.”

“Attempting suicide? Unfortunately, that’s not so unusual either.”

“No, Mike. It’s how she did it. She, ah, see she has this tattoo on her forearm of Pinocchio, and she cut herself… Well, she cut him.”

Mike felt as if his knees were about to buckle. He thought he knew what the tattoo meant, and if he was right, he had an idea of who Marco had actually seen that had him so upset. “Pinocchio?”

“Yea, see she made a cut,” Johnny drew a finger across his own throat. “And she didn’t just try to decapitate him either. She made another cut across his…”

“Left arm?”

“No, a part of his anatomy that’s a little lower than his left arm,” Johnny smirked in response to Mike’s question.  
“The tattoo, was it on her left arm?” Mike asked sternly, not finding the humor in Johnny’s remark.

Johnny drew his eyebrows together in a ‘V’ on his forehead. “Yea, why?” He narrowed his eyes at his engineer, looking around to make sure no one else could hear his next question. “What do you know, Stoker?”

“Just call it a hunch, alright. I’ve got to get Chet and head on out before Marco’s replacement gets here.” The engineer turned and loped over to the cleaning closet where Chet was busy putting up the mopping supplies, leaving a confused paramedic staring at him from the apron of the station.

“Come on, Chet. We need to take Marco’s car to Rampart and then take him home.”

Chet looked up, rolling his eyes at his engineer. “Fine, but we’ll take my van. That way you can drive his car AND him. I might say something I’ll regret.” The young man was still upset by the confusing behavior and curt remarks of his partner.

“No problem,” Mike tossed over his shoulder as he headed for Marco’s locker to retrieve the injured lineman’s duffel bag and car keys. He needed to speak to Marco alone. If Mike was right, Marco might have actually seen his long-lost sister.

E!

A/N: I appreciate all the reviews and comments, PM’s, etc. Thank you so much.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

“Ya know, Mike,” Chet began, walking toward his van in the back parking lot. “I just can’t figure out what’s goin’ on with Marco. Can you?”

Mike cut his blue eyes at the curly haired lineman, a brief feeling of sorrow squeezing his heart. Marco and Chet had been best friends since they had begun working together at 51’s. Now, the younger man was hurt by his friend’s sudden change in character, a change Chet didn’t understand and Mike wasn’t free to explain.

“Well, Chet. I guess when he’s ready, he’ll tell us what’s been bugging him.”

“Humph.” Chet shook his head in frustration, opening the creaky van door and sliding in behind the steering wheel. He looked back at his engineer before closing the door. “Maybe gettin’ hurt was the best thing that coulda happened to him. It’ll give him some paid time off to think about how he’s behaving.”

“Just be patient with him. He needs his friends now,” Mike suggested, knowing that Marco’s behavior was born out of frustration, fear, and heartache. He wished he could explain it all to Chet, but he had made a promise, and Mike Stoker was a man of his word. He would keep his silence about Marco’s family secret, no matter the cost.

“Wha – What’d he tell you? You know somethin’ don’t you?”

Mike kicked himself for saying too much to the nosy Irishman. He had to think quickly to evade the question. “I just know that when a man starts acting the way Marco has, then something is definitely wrong. I don’t need a degree in Psychology to know that when something is wrong, we need our friends. I would think you’d remember what that feels like.” He watched as Chet’s blue eyes shifted downward, his memories obviously creating a hint of heartache within his chest.

“Yea…,” he mused, looking back up at his friend as he cranked up the van. “I think I’ll just head on over to Marco’s apartment. I’ll see ya there.”

“Uh, just follow me to Rampart. He might want to go to his Mom’s house, depending on how badly he’s hurt.”

Chet merely nodded his agreement before backing out of the parking space. Mike quickly followed behind him in Marco’s burgundy Buick.

E!

Marco grunted with the effort of shifting his position in the chair, his aching ankle propped on the seat of the chair opposite him. He was sitting at the small table in the staff lounge, sharing a cup of coffee with Dixie.

“Let me get you something for the pain,” she offered, standing up and placing her empty coffee cup in the sink.

“It’s okay, Ms. McCall.” Marco hated feeling as if an injury was getting the best of him. He rarely found himself being a patient at Rampart General Hospital, but he had to admit that when he needed medical care, there was no place else he would rather be.

“Nonsense,” the nurse scolded. “Remember, we’re not just treating a sprain; we’re treating elevated blood pressure, too. Keeping down the pain will keep down the BP.”

“I’m sure my prescription’s ready at the pharmacy,” Marco commented, reaching for his crutches. “I’ll just go pick it up.”

“Park it, Mister.”

Marco looked up at the petite nurse staring at him from behind her index finger pointing at his chest. “Kel might disagree, but I’m the one who’s really in charge around here. I just let him think he is,” she stated with a wink. “I’m going to go pick up your pain meds, and personally see that you take one.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the scolded man acquiesced, watching as the pretty nurse walked out the door. 

He sat staring at his cold coffee, trying to convince himself that he was wrong about the woman he had seen in the corridor earlier. He wanted to believe Johnny, that the young woman’s last name was LeRoux. His head told him that the odds of running into his sister in the hallway at Rampart, after not seeing her for almost five years, were a million to one; it was just too coincidental. But his mind told him to look for the dawn, no matter how dark the night. His spirit pleaded with him to believe in a God who would not turn his back on the Lopez family, no matter how difficult their lives had become. And his aching heart longed to embrace a happy ending, no matter how bleak the current circumstance. His musings were interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Taxi 51, at your service.”

Dark eyes lifted up to see the tall man standing in the doorway. “Oh, hey, Mike. What’re you doing here?”

“Giving you a ride back to your apartment… Or your Mom’s house, wherever you want to go.” Mike dangled the keys in front of him. “I kind of stole your car.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Kelly’s driving the getaway van so I’ll have a ride back to the station.”

“What happened to Gage and DeSoto? They were supposed to pick me up when they came back by.”

Mike’s perceptive blue eyes saw a shadow cross Marco’s face, and he wondered if the lineman thought he had been left behind by their shift mates. “They stopped by the station to pick up your car, and I offered for Chet and me to come and get you. That way the squad can stay available. The engine’s out of service until your replacement shows up, anyway,” Mike explained, still holding the door open with an outstretched arm. 

Marco grabbed his crutches, grimacing when he stood up. “Argh,” he growled, leaning over on the crutches.

“And where do you think you’re going without your medication?” Dixie peeked beneath Mike’s upheld arm. “You aren’t going anywhere without taking one of these,” she ordered, rattling the blue medicine bottle with the white lid.

“I promise, Ms. McCall. I’ll take one as soon as I get home,” the injured lineman pleaded.

“I’ll make sure he does,” Mike promised, sensing Marco needed to get out of the hospital as quickly as possible. Besides, Mike was very anxious to discuss what the older man had seen that ultimately resulted in his injury.

Mike walked down the corridor beside his slower, injured friend. When the automatic doors opened, both men saw Chet staring at them from the window of his van. He quickly rolled it down, shouting at the exiting men.

“Hey, I’ll follow you, fellas.”

Mike waved his hand in acknowledgement as Marco continued shuffling beside him towards his car. Marco looked up, nodding in Chet’s direction, but scarcely making eye contact. He knew Chet was angry with him, and truthfully, he couldn’t blame the younger man. He had been short with his partner, and he knew that his behavior was confusing. He just wished that he could explain his actions to his best friend - to all his friends - so they would understand, but he preferred to have them think he was losing his mind rather than know about his sister. 

“Let me get that for you,” Mike offered, opening the passenger’s door.

“Thanks, Stoker. I appreciate this,” Marco stated, hopping on his good foot while taking a seat. He offered Mike a halfhearted smile as the engineer took the crutches, placing them in the backseat before walking around to the driver’s side door. 

Mike slammed the car door shut, placing the keys in the ignition. “Where to?”

“Mama’s house,” Marco stated flatly.

Mike shifted the car into gear, then backed out of the parking space. As Chet followed behind them, the two vehicles pulled out of the parking lot, and headed towards the Lopez family home. As soon as the two vehicles were settled into the ribbon of traffic, Mike looked over at the pain-filled face of his friend. “So… Are you going to tell me about it?”  
Marco closed his eyes, leaning his head against the headrest. “You’re going to think I’m crazy, Mike, but… I think…,” he hesitated, shifting his weary eyes at his friend. “I think I saw her.”

Mike continued facing forward, watching the road as intently as if he were driving Engine 51 on a run. “I don’t think you’re crazy at all. In fact, I think she might be Alexia, too,” Mike said, already knowing about whom Marco was referring.

“You do?”

“Johnny said something when we were discussing Chet and me taking you home.” Mike paused, not wanting Marco to know that he had been the topic of conversation beyond his injury. Then he realized that Marco already knew he was being talked about, especially after his uncharacteristic display at Rampart. He wouldn’t pretend with Marco. The older man was too smart, and too close of a friend to be placated. 

“What did he say?” Marco questioned, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

“Well… He said that you thought you knew Miss LeRoux, the roommate of the attempted suicide the squad rolled on right after roll call.”

Marco pressed his lips into a thin line. “Yes, I thought she was Lexi. I mean, she was running towards the elevator calling out to John and Roy. She looked…,” he exhaled loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his emotions in check. “She looked like I expected her to look now. The voice, it was so similar and… I went up to Brianna’s room hoping she was visiting her roommate, but she wasn’t there. And, Brianna was too sedated to even talk to me.”

“Listen,” Mike said, rolling to a stop at a traffic light. “Johnny also said that her roommate’s last name was Olivier, but that both she and this Miss LeRoux are Chicano – not French like their names would suggest.”

Marco thought for a moment, unwilling to allow this new information to cause his hopes to rise. “So, maybe they’re from New Orleans. That’s a melting pot of cultures and races.”  
“True,” Mike began, easing off the break when the light turned green. “But, he also said that Brianna had a Pinocchio tattoo. And that she cut herself as if she were trying to decapitate… and castrate… the character.” 

There was silence inside the car as Marco began to put the pieces together. 

“And, Brianna is the same young woman Roy pulled from that apartment fire last week; the one who had been beaten into a miscarriage.”

Marco shifted in his seat, his aching ankle completely forgotten. “Ohmygod, Mike. It… It really could be her. Pinocchio tattoos are used to mark some of the girls.”  
Marco was just beginning to connect the dots that Mike had connected back at the station. “The names could be false identifications since most of these girls start working the streets before they’re old enough to have a driver’s license, and…”

“Combined with the tattoo, and the fact that she was assaulted last week, and that she was living in a rundown apartment complex where other, ah, other prostitutes are known to live…” Mike looked over at the wide-eyed lineman, seeing tiny beads of perspiration breaking out across his forehead. “It starts to paint a very familiar picture… One you know much more about than I do.”

“And one that might just lead me to Lexi,” Marco muttered softy. “Mike… I’ve got to get back to the hospital. I’ve got to talk to Brianna.”

Mike made the turn onto the street where Maria Lopez lived. “No, you need to rest and take one of those,” he said, pointing at the pill bottle laying sideways on the bench seat between the two men. “I promised Dixie. You know what’ll happen if I break that promise?”

“I don’t care, Mike! This is my sister we’re talking about!” The frustrated man argued.

“And this is your friend you’re talking to,” Mike returned, pointing his index finger at himself, catching a glimpse in the rearview mirror of Chet pulling into the Lopez driveway behind him. He knew he only had a few more seconds to make his point. “I’m on your side, Marco. Let me get an address, and check it out while you recuperate.”

“No… I’m too close now.”

Mike looked in the rearview mirror again, thankful that Chet remained inside the van. “No… WE’RE too close. Look,” he pleaded with the older man. “Sabrina already told you that Lexi doesn’t want to be found. I don’t understand that, but… What do you think she’ll do if you just show up?”

Marco squeezed his eyes shut, then blinked them rapidly to fight back the tears. This was the issue he had been thinking about non-stop since Sabrina had told him the news. If she didn’t want to be found, and she refused to come home, then he knew that she wasn’t likely to agree to talk with him. He thought he might know why, but so far, he hadn’t felt comfortable telling anyone about his suspicions. They sounded too paranoid, even to him. “Run… She’d run.”

“Exactly. She doesn’t know me. We’ve never met. I can pick her up and… You know, like you do with Sabrina. I can give her some money just to talk for a little while. I can say that I’ve never paid for sex before so I’m …”

“Have you?” Marco asked, his voice a little more curt than he intended.

“NO! Hell, no!” Mike answered harshly, his voice rising an octave, and his face turning crimson. His eyes revealed just how shocked he was by the question. “Um… Why?”

“I just needed to see how you reacted to being shocked. If you do this… If you enter this world, you’re going to see and hear things that will shock you. If you’re nervous then she might believe you. You’re speech pattern and tone of voice won’t sound rehearsed. That’s good. You’d be surprised at how intuitive sex workers can be,” Marco said, unable to look his friend in the face. “You have to make it real, or you’ll just spook her off. She’ll think you’re a cop,” the older man stated matter-of-factly.

“Well, picking her up will make me nervous; I won’t lie. But, I swear, I won’t do ANYTHING else, except pay her for talking with me for a little while.” Mike hesitated, watching his friend who sat staring at the pill bottle between them. “You sure are calm about all this.”

“Because I’ve already thought about it, Mike. I just… I just couldn’t ask you to do something like picking up a hooker. It’s just so… So, not the Mike Stoker I know,” Marco explained.

Mike leaned back in the seat once more, catching a glimpse in the side mirror of an exasperated Chester B. Kelly sitting in the van behind him. “That’s why you asked me about my acting ability that first night we went out, right?”

“Yes… I knew that she probably wouldn’t let me pick her up, if we could even find her. But, I thought that maybe… Just maybe… She might get in a car with you, if she didn’t think you were a cop, and didn’t know that you were my friend.”

“I can check Cap’s log book, when he isn’t looking, of course. I don’t want to have to explain it to him.” Mike patted his friend on the shoulder. “I’ll find out the address for Miss LeRoux. If she’s Lexi, we’ll know soon enough.”

“I – I don’t know what to say, Mike. I just can’t believe that you would do something like this for me, for my family.”

“Well, believe it. That’s what friends are for, Marco. We’re here for each other, no matter what. Now, let’s get you inside before Chet blows up back there,” Mike nodded his head in the direction of the van behind them.

“Thanks, man. Thank you for everything.” Marco reached for his wallet just as Mike began opening the door. “Here… I will NOT let you use your own money to give to my sister.”

“Sure you will… At least until we see if I can find her. Let me see how it goes, and if I need more money then I might have to come see you,” he said, smiling.

“Thank you, Mike. Just promise me that if… No,” the older man corrected. “WHEN you make contact with her, and you start talking to her, promise me that you’ll let me pay for the, um, sessions?” Marco asked, his eyes becoming watery.

“Deal,” Mike responded, relieved when he finally saw his friend smiling for the first time in a very long time.

E!

Carolyn Marks grasped Corrie’s hand as the two made their way into Bloomers. She smiled at the familiar face she saw working behind the counter.

“Hello,” Joanne said smiling. “I’m so glad you’re here, Caroline.” She looked at the grinning little girl, holding a bag of small toys. “And hello to you, too, Miss Corrie.”

“Jo-Jo,” the child giggled, running around behind the counter to greet Joanne.

“Oh, you must be Caroline,” Iris said with a smile, closing the door of the cooler in the back. “I’m Iris Campbell,” the older woman said with a genteel smile. “And… Who is this pretty little lady?” She asked, stepping beside Joanne, and running a hand down the back of Corrie’s head, smoothing the child’s sandy blonde straight hair against her shoulders.

“Tell Ms. Campbell what your name is,” Joanne requested, using a soft childlike voice.

“Corrie,” the little girl answered bashfully, bringing a proud smile to her mother’s face.

Iris smiled, hiding her secret heartache as best she could. “You’re just as pretty as a flower, Corrie,” the shop owner said, admiring how obedient the child was for a toddler. 

“Tell her thank you, Corrie.”

The little girl looked at her mother, then turned her face to the woman she had just met. “Tank you.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Iris offered Caroline, needing to change the topic of conversation from the little girl whose presence was dredging up some very difficult memories for the older woman.

“Oh, I’m the one who’s glad to be here,” Caroline stated, taking Corrie back into her arms. “I really need this job, and…,” she hesitated, allowing her squirming daughter to slide down her hip, and stand on her own feet beside her mother. “And, knowing that Corrie will be well cared for, I promise to give you my undivided attention. I promise, I’ll do the best job I can. I’m a fast learner, and…”

“Relax, Caroline,” Iris soothed, pulling the nervous young woman into a sideways hug. “This isn’t an interview for you. I’m the one being interviewed,” she said with a smile. “This is a test to see if you want to work for me. I already know that I want you as an employee,” Iris reassured the young mother. “Now, just follow me, and I’ll show you around the shop. Then I’ll let Joanne show you how we do things around here. Stay as long as you like,” she stated, stopping for a moment to look at both young women. “Both of you are on the clock as of now.”

Joanne smiled broadly. She had already decided to split her wages with Caroline, wanting to offer the young woman some kind of reward for helping her return to her family on a full-time basis. Now, she was hearing that they would both be paid for their time. It was so much more than she could have ever hoped for. “Oh, Iris…”

“What? Oh no, ma’am. I don’t expect to be paid while I’m here today. This is just a test run,” Caroline stated, her eyes wide.

“Okay, rule number one is that you don’t ma’am me,” Iris joked. “Makes me feel older than I am. And secondly, if Joanne doesn’t train you then she can make the deliveries. Or, I can make the deliveries and she can train you. Either way, we need three people in the shop today. The money is the same. So, why not just accept it. You can stay an hour, or you can stay until we close. It’s up to you.” She thought she saw the young woman’s face light up. She wondered if perhaps, there was more of a story for Caroline than what Johnny had shared with her. 

“So, are… Um, are you saying that I’ve got the job?” Caroline asked, holding her breath.

“Yes, if you decide you want it,” Iris responded with a warm motherly smile. “Now, let me show you around the shop, especially a special nook for pretty little girls to play in,” she smiled, giving Corrie a pat on her head as she led Caroline behind the work counter. 

Joanne smiled as she walked behind the two other women, reaching out to grasp Corrie’s hand, as the four of them headed for the back of the shop. 

E!

Chet stared at his engineer as the lanky man climbed into the van. “It’s about time, Stoker,” a frustrated Chet remarked, shifting the van into reverse and backing out of the narrow driveway.

“I had to make sure he took his pain medication,” Mike returned, feeling the need to explain why he followed Marco inside the house.

Chet rolled his eyes, huffing at his engineer. “Yea, right. He’s a big boy, Stoker.”

“I know. But I promised Dixie that I’d make sure he took it. Would you want to face an angry Dixie McCall?”

“Oh, stop it, will ya? Quit turnin’ the conversation away from Marco,” Chet stated, his face animated by frustration.

“Come on, Chet. Just let it go. He’s upset.”

“He oughta be.” Chet angrily shifted into drive, then drove away from the Lopez family home. “So, did he tell ya what happened?”

“Yea, he stumbled going down the stairs and sprained his ankle,” Mike stated, offering nothing more to the curious Irishman.

“Well, no shit, Sherlock,” Chet responded in a snarky voice. “I already knew that! I wanna know WHY he fell. Marco is used to goin’ up and down stairs haulin’ hose, SCBA, and sometimes, unconscious victims without gettin’ hurt. Don’t try to tell me that he tripped over his own two feet not carryin’ a thing.”

“Chet… I’m not the enemy here,” Mike shot back. “Don’t yell at me. If you’re mad at Lopez then talk to him about it.”

Chet shook his head slightly, blowing out his breath. “I’m not… I’m not mad at him, damn it.” He gripped the steering wheel, twisting his white knuckles back and forth along the round rubber covering. “I’m mad at me, alright?”

Mike drew his eyebrows together in confusion. “Mad at yourself? How come?”

“Caroline. I’ve been spending so much time with her that…,” he paused, unsure if he was making sense to his friend. “Well, a few weeks ago, Marco asked me to go out with him for a drink, or somethin'. He was… He was actin’ all depressed and… And I just blew him off.”

“I’m sure he’s happy for you and Caroline. He’s your friend, Chet. He wouldn’t hold it against you that you’ve found a good woman.”

Chet ran the back of his hand across his brow. “I know. But, I shoulda paid more attention to him, ya know?”

Mike could see the pain on the young Irishman’s features. “Give him a call later on and check on him.”

“He won’t talk to me.”

Mike was quickly becoming exasperated. “You haven’t even tried, Kelly.”

“Yea… I have. I tried to talk to him earlier… When he was cleaning the latrine. He… He just smarted off at me.”

Mike began to understand what he had seen when he walked out of Hank’s office after roll call. Chet had tried to talk to Marco while Mike was talking to Hank. Whatever had been said between them had obviously frustrated them both, sending Chet back to the kitchen in a hurry and Marco out to the hose tower. “Well, maybe you should try again. I think he’ll react differently.”

Mike allowed the silence between then to linger for a few moments. “So… Things are going well with you and Caroline?”

Chet felt the blush creeping up his throat, heating his face and coloring the tips of his ears. “Yea… She’s, ah… She’s real special.”

“That’s great. Take care of her, Chet. She sounds like a keeper.”

“Oh, yea… She’s definitely a keeper. I just hope she’ll keep me,” he said, his mood seeming to lift with the change in the conversation. He made the turn onto 223rd Street then looked over at his engineer. “Sorry, man. This whole thing just has me kinda freaked out.”

“I know… Me, too,” Mike responded, not elaborating on exactly what it was that had him concerned. So far, he was making truthful statements, and he didn’t want to get himself into a situation where he needed to lie to cover up what was actually going on in the Lopez family.

The two men remained silent for a couple of minutes before Chet broke the silence. “You know somethin’?”

Mike shifted his blue eyes over to Chet, wondering what the Phantom had in mind. He decided not to answer the question, hoping it was merely a rhetorical one.

“I could get used to this, Mike.”

“Get used to what? Turmoil at the station?” Mike really didn’t know what the Irishman was going to say. Chet’s mouth was often a loose cannon, and no one knew when it might   
misfire. 

“No… Me drivin’ and you ridin’ shotgun,” the young prankster stated with a slight grin, grateful for the break in tension between the two of them. “Who knows, maybe one day I’ll make a decent score on the engineer’s exam, and you’ll be my captain.”

“Do you really want to be assigned latrine duty for the rest of your career?” Mike snickered.

“C’mon, Cap’n Stoker. You… You wouldn’t do that to your old buddy, Firefighter Specialist Chester B. Kelly… Would ya?” Chet asked, unable to read his friend’s face.  
Mike had to admit that he enjoyed toying with the gullible lineman. 

“Um… Stoker?”

Mike simply gave the younger man a slight noncommittal smile, remaining silent for the remainder of the trip back to Station 51.

E!

As night fell across Los Angeles County, Chet walked across the apparatus bay heading for the dorm to make a phone call. He hoped Marco would feel like talking to him, or would at least accept his phone call for just a few minutes. He knew he needed to be the one to reach out to the hurting man, even if Marco refused to tell him what was wrong.  
He pulled out the thick telephone book, looking up the number for Maria Lopez’ residence. Finding the number he was looking for, he held his index finger on the tiny print just below the telephone number, then picked up the receiver. He carefully dialed the number, feeling his heart pounding inside his chest as the phone began to ring.

“Hello?”

“Um, Ms. Lopez? This is Chet. Is Marco around?” Chet ran worried fingers down the sides of his mustache as he waited for her response.

“Why, yes he is. How are you doing this evening Chester?” Maria asked, padding through the kitchen to the living room, stretching the long curly black telephone cord behind her.

“Oh, I’m doin’ fine. Thank you, Ma’am.”

“Here he is,” she said, handing the receiver to her son then returning to the kitchen to finish up the dishes.

“Hello?” Marco answered, wondering if perhaps Mike had changed his mind.

“Hey, buddy. How ya feelin’?”

Marco felt a sense of relief hearing his friend’s voice. At least it wasn’t Mike backing out on their deal. “Sore… A little stupid… And, a lot sorry about this morning.”

“About what?”

Marco coughed, his pain medication causing his mouth to feel dry, and his brain to feel a little foggy. “About… About yelling at you. You… You didn’t know that I’d already seen that poster of the little girl.”

Chet’s eyes grew misty, hearing his friend admit he had been wrong, and reinforcing Chet’s belief that Marco was one of the kindest individuals he had ever met. “So, that’s how you knew who she was.”

Marco pinched the bridge of his nose, his tongue feeling thick. “Yes… I recognized her from the poster I got at the gas station this morning… Same one Cap showed us at roll call. A couple of ladies were handing them out.”

Chet smiled into the telephone, even though the other man couldn’t see him. “Is there anything I can do for you? Need for me to do anything at your apartment, or maybe bring you some food?”

Marco groaned then snickered. “If I have a choice between Mama’s cooking and yours, whose do you think I’d pick?”

“Yea… You make a good point. She’s one of the best cooks I’ve ever met.”

That comment gave Marco an idea, one he hoped would begin to repair the damage between the two friends. “Why don’t you come over for breakfast when you get off shift tomorrow morning? Then you could tell me what I missed.” The visit would also help Marco pass the time while he waited for Mike to make contact with Miss LeRoux.

Chet relaxed, leaning back in the chair at the desk in the dorm. “Yea… Yea, I’d like that. I’ll see ya then, Marco.”

“Sounds good. See you in the morning,” Marco said, feeling contentment with the conversation.

“Bye.”

“Goodbye, amigo.”

E!

Just before it was time for lights out, the men were gathered around the television set, seemingly engrossed in a movie, while Captain Stanley was taking a shower. Nonchalantly, Mike slipped out of the day room and into the captain’s office, opening up the log book. He was quickly able to scan the page, knowing that the woman he now believed might be Alexia Lopez would live at the same address as the first run of the shift for the squad. He lifted his eyes up to the open doorway listening for approaching footfalls, then back down to the line just above the place where his index finger was positioned. He committed the address to memory, then quickly closed the book, placing it back in its proper place. Quietly, he stepped back through the open doorway, clearing his throat as he headed for the dorm, unaware of the chocolate brown eyes that were curiously following his every move from behind the squad.

E!

A/N: I can’t thank you all enough for your support of this story and the entire series. I am forever grateful.


	11. chapter 11

Chapter 11

 

Morning tones sounded, arousing the men of A-shift from a deep and peaceful sleep. There had been no runs during the night, and each man was alert as he filed out the dorm door heading for the kitchen. Johnny was the last to walk out of the sleeping quarters, noticing the anxiousness his engineer displayed. He walked up behind Mike, clapping his hand on the engineer’s shoulder. 

“So… Got big plans for your days off?”

Mike looked over at the man walking beside him. “Not really.”

Johnny couldn’t hide his frustration. Mike had always been known as the quietest of the group, a characteristic that the others appreciated. Now, Johnny really wished the man was more prone to talking. He couldn’t help but wonder what Mike had been up to the previous night when he was in their captain’s office while the older man was in the shower. 

“You, ah… You wanna go bowlin’ or somethin’?”

Mike thought for a moment before responding. He needed to be alone when he went out looking for Alexia. The last thing he needed was someone like Johnny hanging out with him, getting in his way. “No, thank you anyway. I’ve got a lot of laundry to do, and I need to take care of a few things around my apartment.”

Johnny bit his bottom lip, clenching it between his teeth. He knew better than to push the soft-spoken man, but he just couldn’t imagine what Mike Stoker was hiding.

Roy began preparing the coffee for the guys, still unsure how he and Johnny had gotten crossed up the previous morning during roll call. Sensing someone standing near him, he turned to his left to see his partner removing the can of coffee from the overhead cabinet. 

“Need any help?” Johnny asked in a gesture of unity.

“Nah, I’ve done this a few times. I think I can handle it.”

Johnny watched as Roy scooped out the amount of coffee needed for the percolator. “Um, wanna go get some breakfast?”

Roy knew what Johnny was doing, and he truly appreciated it. He knew the younger man didn’t like discord between them any more than he did. “I really should go on home. Jo’s going to be there. Today will be her first day with Corrie.”

“Oh, yea. I understand.”

Roy noticed the defeated look on his best friend’s face. He didn’t want Johnny to think that he was still angry. It was obvious that his partner was wanting to smooth out the wrinkles in their relationship from this shift, and he knew just how to help. “Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? We can grill out or something.”

Johnny’s trademark grin broke out on his face. “Really?”

“Of course,” Roy said, hearing the soft bubbling sound of the coffee beginning to percolate.

“I’ll bring the burgers,” Johnny said with a smile, clapping his partner on the back of his neck.

E!

Marco rolled over in bed, his ankle beginning to throb once more. “Argh,” he growled, flinging the covers off of his aching extremity. He pried his bloodshot eyes open as he sat up, rest had eluded him, leaving him as exhausted as he would have been had he been battling a blaze the entire night. He stood up on his good foot then leaned over onto the padded grips of the wooden crutches. He had hobbled over to his bedroom door when he remembered his pill bottle. He turned back around, hobbling back to his nightstand to retrieve the pain medication. As much as he hated how the analgesic made him feel, he knew he needed it, regretting his decision not to take a dose before going to bed the night before. He tapped out the amount he needed, concerned that a single pill might not do the job. He then grimaced as he dry swallowed the bitter white pills.

“Meeko?”

Marco smiled at the sound of his young nephew’s voice. It was obvious by the low volume that Maria Lopez had warned her grandson not to wake his uncle. He maneuvered himself over to the closed door, reaching for the doorknob, granting his nephew access to him.

“Good morning, Antonio.”

“Meeko!” The child cheered, no longer feeling the need to keep his voice quiet. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of his uncle’s bruised and swollen ankle. “Does it hurt?”

“A little, but not too badly. I can’t wrestle with you this morning, though,” Marco said apologetically. 

“That’s okay. Grandma’s cooking breakfast. Are you hungry?”

The child’s question reminded Marco that he had been instructed to take his medication with food. Even though he wasn’t hungry, he knew he needed to eat. The last thing he wanted was to get sick. “Si… I smell scrambled eggs and chili. Let’s go eat, Ant.”

“If I eat it all, will I grow big muscles like you?”

Marco chuckled at his nephew’s question. “I’m not sure I’d call my muscles big, but yes, eating protein will make you strong.”

“You’re strong, right, Meeko? You save people from the fires,” the young boy said, his energy bubbling over as he walked in front of his slower uncle.

Marco knew what Antonio meant, but the sharp edge of the child’s words sliced through his heart. He did save people from fires, not as often as the paramedics did, but he and Chet often rescued helpless victims, and on rare occasions, each other. Now, his sister was being swallowed up, burning inside a different kind of fire. The irony was not lost on Marco as he made his way into the kitchen. He saved lives and property for a living, plucking victims from the fiery tongue of the devil himself. Yet, as he sat down for breakfast, bowing his head in prayer along with his mother and nephew, the one person he wanted so badly to save from the pit of hell remained just out of his reach.

Maria finished her prayer, then looked up at her first-born son. “Marco? Are you in pain?”

He gave her a soft smile that never made it to his eyes. “No… I just took another pill. I’m fine.” He hated lying to his mother. Truthfully, he was in pain, but it wasn’t a physical pain. He hurt for his mother who was missing a child, and he hurt for his sister who, likewise, was also missing a child. He felt a tugging on his heartstrings that was stronger than he had ever felt before. He wondered if Mike had been able to get the address for Miss LeRoux. He contemplated a variety of ways to make contact with her. He didn’t realize he had been staring into his plate, until a soft warm hand touched his forearm, startling him back to the present.

“What has you so troubled, son?”

Marco’s dark eyes looked pleadingly into the tired face of his mother. He wanted so badly to bring Lexi home to her, to Antonio, to all of them. He blew out his breath, scooping eggs onto his fork and shoveling them into his mouth. He chewed them, swallowing quickly before he spoke. 

“I… I just,” he cast his eyes at his nephew then back up at his mother. He wouldn’t complete his sentence in front of Antonio. The child had no idea that his mother had abandoned him, nor did he understand that she was missing. Marco didn’t want to make a statement that might cause the precocious child to ask a lot of questions, questions the two adults were not ready to answer.

Maria patted his forearm. “I know… Me, too,” she responded, knowing that Marco was missing his sister. “God can still answer our prayers. Don’t give up, please?”

“I’m not, Mama,” he said, around another mouthful of eggs and chili. “I never will… No matter how long it takes.”

“I’m afraid we don’t have much longer, though. If God is going to answer our prayer, He’ll have to do it soon,” she mumbled, lowering her chin to hide her face. “I just hope He chooses to answer it in the way we want Him to,” she said softly. A stern knock on the front door brought a slight smile to her face, even though, just like Marco, it didn’t light up her eyes. “I bet that’s Chet.” She dropped her napkin onto the table as she rose to answer the door.

Chet grinned sheepishly at the sight of the smiling plump woman as she welcomed him into her home. She had been like a second mother to him since he and Marco had been paired up as linemen on A-shift when 51’s opened.

“Come in, Chet,” she said, wrapping the young man in a warm embrace. “It’s so good to see you. Breakfast is ready,” she explained, waving her arm in the direction of the kitchen. “We weren’t sure what time you might get here so I’m afraid we started without you.”

“Thank you, Ma’am. We had a quiet night and got to leave on time this morning.” Chet inhaled deeply, appreciating the scent. “Mmmmm, it sure smells good.” He walked into the kitchen area, seeing Marco and Antonio talking at the kitchen table.

“Good morning, Chet,” Marco spoke softly, feeling his sadness lifting a little by the sight of his friend. 

“Sit down, and I’ll prepare you a plate.”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Chet responded, pulling out a chair at the table. “Good morning, Antonio.”

“Goo’ mornin’,” the youngster spoke up around a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

“How was the rest of the shift?” Marco asked.

“Quiet,” Chet replied just as a steaming plate of scrambled eggs and chili was passed beneath his nose and placed on the table in front of him.

The remainder of the meal was eaten amid the light conversation. As everyone finished, Maria sensed that the two men needed to talk alone. She stood up, gathering the plates.  
“Ant, go on to your room and start getting dressed. I’ll be up in a minute to help you brush your teeth.”

“See ya, Squirt,” Chet snickered as the remark brought a smile to the child’s face.

“Why don’t you boys go enjoy the morning breeze on the front porch and I’ll bring you some coffee?”

Marco looked at his mother, silently thanking her for her understanding. Maria’s intuition had always been right on target, a fact that brought even more dread to his soul knowing that she thought they were running out of time with Alexia. “Thanks, Mama.”

“Oh, I’ll get our coffee. I think you probably have your hands full,” Chet smiled, nodding his head in the direction of the retreating child. Since he had been spending time with Corrie, he was able to truly appreciate the hard work of caring for a preschooler. 

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Chet. Gracias.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you for the delicious breakfast.” He then turned his attention to his partner. “Here, let me give ya a hand with those sticks of yours,” he jested.

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Marco stood up on his good foot, accepting the proffered crutches from his friend. 

Ten minutes later the two friends were enjoying steaming cups of coffee in the refreshing coolness of the morning. Marco propped his injured foot on a chair opposite him. “This is getting really old,” he groaned.

“Um, hate to break it to ya, but you’ve got a few more days of this, don’t ya?”

“Yes…,” he began, unsure of what to say next. He decided that asking his friend a question might move the topic of conversation away from him and onto Chet. “So, how are things with Caroline?”

Chet blushed. “Really good. I… I never thought I’d say this, but… She might be the one, ya know?”

Marco felt a genuine sense of happiness for his friend and wondered if he would ever be able to say the same thing. “Do you love her?”

Chet sipped his coffee wistfully. “Yea… Yea, I really do.”

“And… She feels the same way?” Marco questioned, treading lightly with the subject.

A grin spread across the younger man’s features. “Yea… She told me for the first time the other day.”

“What about Corrie?”

“Oh, she loves me, too,” Chet snickered.

Marco rolled his eyes, but had to admit that he loved having a conversation with his nutty friend. “No, you idiot. How do you feel about her? I mean, she isn’t yours so can you accept her, if this relationship heads towards the alter?”

Chet thought for a moment before answering the question. “It’s not a matter of acceptance, Marco. I – I love that little girl so much that sometimes… Sometimes I forget that she isn’t mine.” There, he had admitted it. And, he hadn’t corrected Marco’s reference to marriage either. Truthfully, he had been considering that prospect for a while.

“Chet, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For asking such personal questions… And for being a real jerk lately.”

Chet gulped, feeling overwhelmed by the suddenness of the apology. “Augh, it’s alright. We’re best friends. Aren’t we?” He questioned, sipping his coffee.

“Do you still want to be?”

“Yes, Marco. I just… Hell, I just wanna know what’s wrong with ya, man. I mean, you haven’t been yourself lately.”

“You just don’t know the real me,” Marco wearily whispered, hanging his head. He wondered if he should tell his friend about the Lopez family shame. 

“What?”

Marco felt his bloodshot eyes begin to sting. He reached up with his free hand, swiping the moisture from the inside corners before it betrayed him by flowing freely down his cheeks. He felt weak and defeated in the presence of his close friend, and wondered if he had the courage to share his personal torment. He raised the coffee cup to his lips, needing to feel the soothing warmness of the black liquid as he swallowed a sip, thus delaying his response to Chet’s question. 

Chet immediately recognized the delay tactic his friend was using. “C’mon, Marco. This is me you’re talkin’ to, not some stranger.” The younger man leaned forward, staring at the downcast face of his partner. “Marco… You,” Chet had to clear his throat before he could continue. The emotions from his own dark days were beginning to surface and he needed to tamp them back down. “Ahem, you were there for me when I needed you most… Let me be here for you now.”

Slowly, Marco lifted his face, no longer trying to hide his tears. He swallowed hard, forcing down the bile that threatened to choke off his words. “I – I can’t… Not here… Not now.” 

“Well, when? Where?” Chet knew he was making progress, and he knew that the tears now streaking the tanned face of his friend were just the beginning of a geyser about to rupture from deep within his friend’s soul. Whatever was causing Marco’s unusual behavior was even more serious than he had first thought.

The older man scrubbed his face with the palm of his hand, clearing his throat. He knew that he really needed to talk to Chet about what he and his family were going through. He had shared his secret with Mike, knowing the quiet engineer would never disclose the information to another living soul. He didn’t regret that decision, especially now that Mike was planning to go out looking for Alexia. But, right now, his heart ached for the support and compassion of his partner. Ever since his father died, Marco Lopez had been trying to fill the void the family patriarch left behind. Now, over a decade later, he felt as if he had failed miserably. He was growing weary from the pressure, and wasn’t sure he would be able to continue to carry his burden without the help of those closest to him. The only problem was that in order to lean on his friends, he would be forced to tell them the truth.

He looked at his closest friend through red watery eyes. “Um,” he sniffled. “Can you drive me to my apartment?”

“Of course, whatever you need me to do.” Chet reached out, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “You wanna go now?”

Marco nodded, setting his coffee cup on the small table between their chairs. He knew that if he waited any longer, he might change his mind.

E!

Caroline stared out the window of her living room, her eyes scanning the parking lot once more for the man who had stolen her heart. He had called her the previous night, telling her about Marco’s injury. Now, she worried that perhaps a similar fate had befallen Chet. She crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing away the chill along her upper arms as she turned and smiled at her daughter.

“Corrie, are you ready to go to Jo-Jo’s house?”

The precocious youngster grinned from ear to ear. “Uh-huh,” she giggled, sliding off the sofa and heading for the front door.

Caroline grasped the tiny hand of her daughter and together the two of them walked to the parking lot. The empty space beside her car brought an ache to her heart, and silently she prayed for the safety of the man she loved.

She secured Corrie in the front seat beside her, then carefully drove toward the DeSotos’ residence. Fifteen minutes later, she turned into the DeSoto’s driveway, happy to see that Roy’s gold sports car was sitting in the driveway. She found a fresh spring in her step as she and Corrie stood on the front steps waiting for an answer to her knock. At least now she could go to work knowing that Chet was most likely on his way home, too.

“Good morning,” Roy responded with a smile, opening the door and welcoming the two Marks ladies into the house. “Jo-Jo has been looking forward to you staying with her today,” he said, kneeling down to speak to the child at her eye level. He was rewarded with a bashful grin.

“I still can’t believe it. I’m so grateful to you and Joanne. I - I don’t know what I’d do without you both.”

“Oh, you’d do just fine,” Joanne responded, walking into the living room drying her hands on a dish towel. “Have you eaten breakfast, Corrie? Jo-Jo and Mr. Roy just finished eating and we have a plate saved for you, if you want it.” Joanne gave the little girl a wink. “Mr. Roy cooked the eggs and bacon so they taste extra good.” She was grateful that her marriage was back on track, and took the opportunity to let her husband know how much she appreciated him. 

“I like bacon,” Corrie affirmed.

Caroline stored Joanne’s remark in her memory, wondering how Roy had been able to get home at the usual time, and yet, Chet had not. She couldn’t allow the question to linger. Instead of commenting, she bent down and kissed Corrie’s forehead. “You be a sweet girl for Jo-Jo, okay? Mommy will see you later on, this afternoon.”

“Okay,” the child said, reaching for the outstretched hand of Joanne.

“She’ll be just fine. You don’t have to worry about a thing. But, we’ll be here all day, if you, ah, if you feel the need to call and check on her,” Joanne reassured the nervous young mother.

“Thank you,” she whispered, knowing that Joanne understood her concerns. She then left the DeSoto residence headed for the florist’s shop and her first day of full-time employment, but she left with a question weighing heavy on her heart. Why had Chet not returned home after his shift? The demons of her past began to resurrect themselves, forming a cloud of doubt inside her heart. Could it be that Chet was growing tired of her, now that she had given herself to him completely?

E!

Chet tried to carry on a conversation with Marco as he drove towards his partner’s apartment, but the older man was beginning to feel the effects of his pain medication and seemed to be struggling to remain alert. Chet had never seen his friend drunk before, but was beginning to get an idea of what an inebriated Marco Lopez might be like. His speech was beginning to slur slightly, making him sound as if he were trying to imitate the dialect of a Southern Gentleman.

“This stuff ‘s, strong,” Marco slurred as Chet made the turn into his apartment complex.

“That’s why the Doc prescribed it. He didn’t want you to be in pain,” Chet surmised. Under any other circumstance, he would be laughing at his struggling friend. But Chet didn’t know what sordid tale he was about to hear, and just hoped Marco would be able to tell him what was wrong before he succumbed to the effects of the medication.

“Well… ‘s goo’ snuff, uh, stuff,” Marco spoke, his tongue feeling as thick as a plank of wood.

Chet shifted his van into park, looking over at the very relaxed man sitting beside him. “Um, do you need my help getting inside?”

Marco opened the van door, feeling a wave of dizziness overtaking him. “Yea… Ugh.”

“Alright, leave the crutches in the van. I’ll just carry you,” Chet commented, scurrying around to the passenger’s side of the van before Marco accidentally fell out. He carefully positioned his friend across his shoulders, being extra careful not to bump his injured ankle. It only took a minute to walk the short distance to Marco’s ground floor apartment where Chet carefully lowered him to the ground, leaning the limp man against the wall. “Alright, where’s your keys?”

Marco fished around inside his front pocket, pulling the dangling keys out, and extending them towards Chet. “I don’ think I can do it,” he slurred once more.

Chet accepted the keys, recognizing the one for the door, and quickly opened it. He then pulled one of Marco’s arms across his shoulder with the other wrapped around the injured man’s waist, and together they managed to walk into the darkened apartment. Chet left the front door open to allow enough light inside so that they didn’t trip over anything. As soon as he had Marco seated on the sofa, Chet clicked on the lamp then returned to close the door.

“Um… I don’ think I have anythin’ to drink,” Marco apologized.

“No problem, Pal. Your Mama’s cooking and coffee have me completely satisfied.”

Marco grinned, unsure of exactly how to broach the subject he had planned to discuss. “So, speakin’ o’ good cookin’… Is Caroline a goo’ cook?”

“Oh, yea. She usually has breakfast waiting for me when I….” Chet felt his heart leap in his throat. “Uh-oh… I bet she’s wonderin’ where I’m at.” He reached for the phone on the end table. “Gimme just a second to call her, okay?” He asked, not waiting for an answer. When the ringing continued on the other end of the line, he twisted his wrist to look at his watch. “Shit,” he cursed. “I forgot; she’s workin’ now. Today’s her first day at Bloomers.”

“Isn’ that where Jo-anne wor’s?”

Chet looked over at Marco, knitting his eyebrows together. “Oh yea, you don’t know, do ya. See, Caroline needed a job and Joanne wanted to stay at home, but missed takin’ care of the kids while they were at school. So, Caroline took Joanne’s job at Bloomers and Joanne is keeping Corrie. Everyone gets what they want.”

“Goo’ idea, man.”

“It wasn’t mine,” Chet snickered. “It was Johnny’s.”

“John’s a goo’ man.”

“Yea… Don’t tell him I agreed with you, though. I’d like to keep that a secret just between us,” he said with a grin.

“Your secret’s safe wi’ me, amigo.”

Chet’s jovial mood shifted immediately, his face growing solemn for a moment. “And yours is safe with me, too, Marco.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Whatever it is that’s been bothering you… I wanna help.”

“You can’ help me, Chet. It’s jus’…” He stopped, unsure of how much to say.

“Maybe I can’t help, but I can listen,” the younger man encouraged.

Whether it was the close bonds of friendship, or the medication that loosened his lips, Marco had no idea. But, over the next half hour, he found himself sharing his deepest secrets and fears related to his family, particularly his youngest sibling whom Chet never knew existed.

Chet was stunned at what he was hearing, but fought to keep the shock off of his expressive face. He walked into the kitchen to retrieve a partially used roll of paper towels, bringing them back for his friend to use to dry his face. It broke his heart to see his friend struggling with his emotions, but it hurt him even more to know that he had been carrying this secret around for years, unable to even share it with his best friend.

“Marco, I don’t know what to say. I’m just so sorry for what you and your family are going through. I – I had always assumed that Antonio belonged to one of your brothers. I thought maybe his mother just didn’t want him so she gave him to your Mama to raise. I… I had no idea that you had a sister.”

Marco blew his nose, then tore off another paper towel to continue wiping his tear-stained face. “Well, it’s not somethin’ I go ‘round braggin’ ‘bout, Chet.”

“Oh, I know. I just… I just wish that I could’ve been there for you. I wish that you… I wish that you could’ve trusted me.”

Chet’s words cut into Marco’s already slaughtered heart. “Not your faul’, man. My faul’. I was jus’ so… ‘shamed,” he said, breaking down and crying once more, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Chet felt relieved that the two of them were alone in Marco’s apartment. He moved over to the sofa, sitting next to Marco and pulling him into a brotherly embrace. He held the crying man for several long minutes, feeling him trembling and wailing into Chet’s tear-stained shirt. “It’s okay, Marco. I’m here and I’m gonna help you get her back.”

“Nu-uh,” Marco sniffled, releasing his grip on Chet’s wrinkled shirt. “No… Can’ let ya. It… It’ll hur’ Caroline.”

“She’ll understand, she’s…”

“NO!” Marco’s voice rose as he looked his best friend in the eye. “No way. I’m workin’ on it. Jus’… Jus’ be happy, ‘kay?”

“Be happy?”

Marco scrubbed his face with his hand, finding it difficult to remain alert. He was emotionally drained, physically tired, and still under the influence of the medication. “I jus’ want you to be happy… Don’ lose Caroline ‘cause o’ this.”

Chet looked at his friend, understanding that the guilt and shame the older man was feeling now would only be increased if he accepted Chet’s assistance and Caroline found out. Nothing would break up a relationship quicker than a man being caught with a prostitute, even if there was no sexual services exchanged. He knew that Caroline’s emotional state was a little fragile, especially now that they had taken their relationship to the physical level. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt her in anyway, but especially not involving a perceived sexual relationship with a hooker. Marco was right, he just couldn’t risk it.

“I – I know, but… Marco, I just wanna do somethin’, man.”

Marco used the heel of his hand to rub his eyes. “Yo – you have. You listened to me. You – you didn’ judge me… Didn’ make me fee’ bad. Gracias, Chet.” He yawned, feeling as if a large weight had been lifted from his weary shoulders.

“Alright, listen… You look like you need to sleep this off. Why don’t I help you into your bed, and I’ll just watch some TV for a few hours. How’s that sound?”

Marco merely nodded his agreement, allowing his friend to once again help him up. Marco found himself leaning on Chet, literally and figuratively, as they made their way down the narrow hallway. He truly was exhausted, and yet, his soul felt lighter. If only he could wake up in a couple of hours to find this nightmare over.

E!

Caroline spent her lunch break trying to eat the ham sandwich she had brought from home. She had tried to call Chet at his apartment, but got no answer. She then checked on Corrie who, according to Joanne’s happy report, had played herself into exhaustion, and was napping on their sofa. After another unsuccessful call to Chet’s apartment, she gave up and pulled her sandwich from the plastic wrapping. She picked at it, forcing herself to chew and swallow the food. Her mouth was dry with worry, and she took a few sips of water before trying to swallow another bite. Her stomach growled and churned, but she simply couldn’t swallow her food. Where was Chet? Had she done something wrong? He had acted as if everything was fine when she saw him last. Maybe he wasn’t as happy with her as he had said he was. Maybe he was avoiding her, trying to think of a nice way to break up with her. Had she made a huge mistake by inviting him into her bedroom that morning?

“Is something wrong, dear?”

Caroline looked up into Iris’ concerned face. “Oh, no… I’m just not as hungry as I thought.”

“Is this the first time you’ve left Corrie with a sitter?”

“No… I mean, Joanne’s kept her overnight once, and she stayed for a couple of hours at a daycare, but…”

“But, this is the first day of a new routine, right? I’m a mother, too. We never stop worrying about our little ones, even when they aren’t so little anymore.”

Caroline offered her employer a brief smile. “Yes… I suppose you’re right. I’m being silly, aren’t I?” Truthfully, she wasn’t worried about Corrie, but she didn’t want to explain to Iris the real reason for her somber attitude.

“Not at all, dear. You’re being a good mother. My daughter, Lilly, is twenty-seven now, and I still worry about her all the time.”

Just as Caroline was about to speak, the bell on the front door jingled. She pushed herself off the stool she was sitting on, but was halted by Iris.

“Finish your lunch. I’ll take care of the customer. You’re really catching on fast, Caroline. I hope you’ll enjoy working here,” she said, turning to leave.

“I do,” she said, raising her voice slightly to ensure Iris was able to hear her. She knew she would enjoy working at Bloomers. She just wished she felt as confident about her relationship with Chet.

E!

By early afternoon, Chet was dozing in the recliner in Marco’s living room while the television droned on with a soap opera. The sound of a toilet flushing awakened him from his nap. He quickly stood up, heading back to Marco’s bedroom to assist the injured man in getting down the hall and into the living room.

“Marco, need any help?” He called out from outside the bedroom door.

Marco opened the door, standing on his good foot and leaning on his dresser for support. He had managed to hobble to his bathroom by using his bedroom furniture to ambulate. Without furniture in the hallway, he would need his crutches. “Yes, I need those God-forsaken crutches now. Do you mind?”

Chet snickered at his friend’s dry sense of humor, noticing how swollen the older man’s eyes were, but they were clear and his speech no longer sounded slurred. “Yea… Be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” he tossed over his shoulder.

“Real funny,” Marco groused, glad to have the opportunity to jest with his friend.

In record time, Chet returned with the crutches, passing them to his injured friend. “Ready to head back to your Mom’s house?”

“Yes, but I need to pick up my mail first, please.”

“No problem.”

“Thanks, Chet. I… I really needed some time away. I appreciate you letting me, uh, cry on your shoulder.”

Chet walked slowly down the sidewalk, not wanting to rush Marco. As they reached the van, he opened the passenger’s door for him. “No problem. At least you didn’t fight me and call me a mother-fu…”

“I remember that well, amigo.” Marco would never forget finding Chet that morning, wrestling with the cursing angry man after he had overdosed. Poor Johnny had caught the brunt of Chet’s anger with a crutch tip to the groin. Marco could still here the pitiful retching sound of Johnny vomiting after the assault. “It was a long time ago, and all has been forgiven.”

“Thanks,” Chet said softly, closing the door and walking around the front of the van. His life had changed so drastically since that fateful morning. He just hoped that maybe Marco’s life would soon experience the same turnaround.

After delivering Marco safely to his mother’s home, he looked at his watch. He had thought about buying Caroline a bouquet of flowers in honor of her first day at work, then decided that flowers might be unappreciated after she had spent eight hours in a flower shop. So, he decided to take his two favorite ladies out to dinner instead. He had at least an hour before Caroline would be home, and so he decided to do a little window shopping. He wasn’t yet ready to make the expensive purchase, but he did want to begin the search. He turned into the shopping center near their apartment complex, and parked in front of the glistening windows of Johnson’s Jewelers.

E!

By the time Caroline picked up Corrie and headed home, her back was beginning to feel the effects of standing on her feet all day. She was afraid this would happen, but knew from experience that if she did her stretches before going to bed then she would feel better by morning. Her excitement over her first day at her new job had been overshadowed by her concern for Chet. Now, turning into her apartment complex, she felt a bit of relief seeing his van parked in the usual spot. Her heart also skipped a beat with the realization of what she was about to face.

“Hold my hand, sweetie,” she called out, reaching for Corrie’s smaller hand. Together, the two of them walked up the walkway to her apartment door. She released Corrie’s hand long enough to locate her apartment key. As soon as she opened the door, she heard Corrie squeal behind her.

“Mizzer Phet!”

“Hey there, ladybug!” Chet reached out, swinging the child into his arms and settling her on his shoulders. “How’d the first day go?” He asked Caroline, catching a hint of sadness in her eyes. He leaned in for a kiss, but she walked inside, turning away from him instead.

“It was kind of long, but I like the job,” she said, honestly, walking to the kitchen table to deposit her purse. “How was your day?”

Chet followed Caroline inside, then removed Corrie from his shoulders. He caught the iciness in Caroline’s voice, and knew he had made a big mistake by forgetting to call her. “It was good. I’m sorry that I forgot to call you until after you left for work. I went by to check on Marco this morning and… He, ah… he needed a friend. I spent most of the day with him.” He reached out to her, placing his hands on her upper arms, turning her so that she was facing him. “Baby, look at me, please.”

Caroline continued looking down, unsure what to say or do. She had so little experience in relationships, and now she found herself feeling a bit foolish and embarrassed. Of course Chet would check on his friend. Why hadn’t she thought of that instead of jumping to conclusions?

Chet gulped, pulling her into an embrace, running his hands down her trembling back. “Talk to me, Baby.”

“I – I was worried,” she croaked out.

If it had been physically possible, Chet would have beaten himself up at that moment. Of course, she had been worried. She loved him, something he needed to get used to, quickly. “I’m so sorry, Sweetheart. I’m fine, everything’s fine. I tried to call you, but you had already left for work. I truly didn’t mean to worry you.” He pulled back from her slightly, using the crook of his finger to lift her chin. “I love you, and this is all my fault. I’m so sorry. I – I wanted to celebrate your new job by taking you ladies out to dinner. Is that okay?”

Caroline felt her eyes begin to moisten. She tried to smile, but was stopped by the sudden kiss he planted on her mouth. The tender kiss lasted only a moment, but it was long enough to erase the fears that had surrounded her all day. When their lips parted, she whispered softly. “I thought you… You didn’t want to see me anymore.”

Chet’s heart slammed around in his chest like a caged animal. “What? No, oh, no, Caroline. Never. I… I love you so much. Like I said, I made a big mistake today. If you’ll forgive me, I swear, it won’t happen again.”

He got his answer in the form of another, more passionate kiss. As the kiss deepened, Caroline opened her mouth to his exploring tongue. She wrapped her arms around his neck, softly purring from deep inside her throat. When they parted for the second time, his lips were swollen and red, but his face was the picture of complete joy.

A child’s giggle brought the kiss to an end quicker than either of them wanted. They realized they had a young audience and needed to keep the kiss to a minimum level of passion.

“Forgiven,” she whispered, smiling for the first time since she had left her apartment heading to work.

E!

Across town, in her shabby apartment, Alexia tried hard to cover up the bruises with a heavy coat of make-up. She had paid a heavy price for trying to visit her friend, a friend she had been told didn’t feel the same way about her. Tonight, she was being required to bring Ricardo even more money, additional payment for disobeying him. She thought again about Brianna, and her attempt to end her own life. She was beginning to regret her decision to save the life of her roommate. If Brianna was right, then death was the only way out of the life she now lived in. She had prayed for so long that she might find another way, but there had been no answer to her prayers. She could never return to the safety of her family. She had been repeatedly reminded that they would never forgive her, nor allow her to see her son. She was a disgrace, a whore, a woman whose family would be much better off if she were dead than if she continued to live. All hope of one day being able to see her family again had been destroyed just a couple of hours ago. Ricardo had made his threats very clear. One more wrong move, one more mistake, and he would make sure that her family paid a much higher price for her sins than she could ever imagine. She was less than human, not worthy of anyone’s love. She had been raised to believe that God was willing to forgive her transgressions, but now, she fully believed that even God himself was no longer willing to forgive her for the choices she had made in her young life. 

With one last look at herself in the mirror, she turned to walk out the door. She was sore from what she had endured during the day, and walking on the stilettos seemed to cause her even more pain through her hips and back. She pulled on the thin sweater. It would help hide the marks on her shoulders and arms. She then pulled up her skirt a little higher, crossed her tiny purse over her body and allowed it to rest at her hip. She knew her attire left no question as to what she was looking for on this night. As she walked out of the apartment, she saw one of the watchers sitting on a bench, pretending to be passing the time smoking a cigarette. She made eye contact briefly, caught the hideous grin, then turned to walk up the street towards her destination, unaware that she was being watched by a second set of eyes, eyes with a different plan for her on this night.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Chet cradled a sleeping Corrie in his arms, walking across the apartment complex parking lot, carrying her back to Caroline’s apartment. “Geez, what did Joanne do to her today?”

“Well, between the meal she just ate with us, and a full day with Joanne playing, she’s just worn out. She always has so much fun at the DeSotos’. This is going to work out great, I think,” Caroline said softly, opening up the door and entering her darkened apartment. She clicked on the small lamp on the side table at the entrance, following Chet as he carried her slumbering daughter down the hallway to her bedroom.

“See-py,” the child mumbled, quickly rolling over onto her side as soon as Chet laid her down on her bed. 

“I know, sweetheart, but Mommy needs to put your nightgown on.” Caroline walked across the small room, quietly opened the drawer on the dresser that held her daughter’s night clothes, and removed a long gown. She turned back towards the twin bed, noticing how Chet was smiling at her as he leaned against the door frame, silhouetted by the soft glow of the nightlight. She continued with her task, removing Corrie’s clothing and replacing it with the nightgown. The child stirred momentarily, but was quickly soothed back to sleep by her mother. “I guess we can skip brushing her teeth for one night.” She kissed Corrie on her forehead, then stood up. 

Chet sidestepped her and leaned over, placing his own kiss on the little girl’s forehead. “Sweet dreams, ladybug,” he whispered. He pulled the cover up beneath her chin then turned to follow Caroline out the door, quietly closing it behind him. He reached out his hand to Caroline who accepted it, and together they walked back into the living room.

“Would you like some coffee?”

Chet looked at Caroline, seeing the fatigue in her eyes. “Nah, I think I better keep my visit short and let you get some sleep, too. You’ve got to get up early in the morning.”

Caroline smiled at him bashfully. “Thank you for the celebratory dinner. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he said, sitting down on the sofa, tugging on her hand, encouraging her to join him. “But I wanted to do it. It’s a big step for you both. I thought it was worthy of celebrating.” He saw her grimace as she sat down beside him. “Uh-oh… Back?”

“Yea… A little sore. I’m just not used to this yet.”

Chet turned sideways so he could see her beautiful face. “Why don’t you let me give you a massage; maybe I can ease the tension? It might help you sleep better.”

“You don’t have to do that. You’ve already done so much for Corrie and me tonight,” she began, shifting her head to the side so as not to face him.

“Caroline,” he interrupted, reaching for her chin, a move that was becoming all too familiar. He lifted it up until she was looking into his eyes. “Why can’t you just accept that I love you, and I want to make you happy? I want to ease your burdens, and share your aches and pains with you,” he said with a slight smile. “I WANT to do all these things. I know I don’t have to, but I really do want to. I’ll be a gentleman, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he snickered.

She lowered her face once more. He had asked a question that she couldn’t answer because she didn’t understand it herself. Why couldn’t she just accept his love for her? Why did she have to expect something bad to happen? The twinge in her back reminded her of his offer.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” She asked, hoping he would be able to release the knots causing her pain.

“Not at all, baby.” He stood up, reaching down for her hand, gently assisting her up until she was standing in front of him. “C’mon… Let’s go get you ready for bed. That way, if you fall asleep, I can just let myself out.”

Hand in hand they walked down the hallway heading for her bedroom. She closed and locked the door, just in case Corrie happened to wake up. She didn’t want an audience for the massage she was about to receive. She turned her back to him, unbuttoning her blouse and removing it from her shoulders. She draped it across the chair in the corner of the room. She then slipped off her shoes, removed her skirt, and crawled onto the bed. She lay on her stomach with her face turned to her left, where she could watch Chet. When she looked over at him, she thought she saw desire in his eyes.

“You put on quite a show, my lady,” he offered, walking over to the place where she lay. He sat down beside her, reaching over and unhooking her bra. “Let’s get this outta the way.” He pulled the white garment from beneath her and dropped it onto the floor. “Um, do you have some lotion or something? My hands are kinda rough and dry.”

“Yea,” she said, lifting her face just enough to make her words audible. “It’s in the bathroom, on the counter.”

Chet stood up, walked into the bathroom, and retrieved the silky lotion in the pink bottle. He poured some in his hand, sniffing it before slathering it across her back. “Mmmm, smells like roses.”

“It’s called Rose Milk. I really like it.”

Chet began rubbing the lotion into her skin, feeling the lumps in her lower back. Carefully, so as not to hurt her, he worked out the knots, moving his flattened hands up and down the length of her naked back every couple of minutes, hoping to relax her enough for her to fall asleep. When he saw that she had opened her eyes again, he questioned her.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, I just… I can’t believe you’d… Ooohhmmmph… do this for me,” she groaned, her eyes rolling back in her head and closing shut as he continued his ministrations.

“Well, if it was me after a bad shift, would you do it for me?” 

“Of course, I would… But that’s different.” Her eyes remained closed as she gave in to his relaxing touch.

“Then why is it so hard to believe that I’d do it for you? Why is this any different?”

She didn’t answer his question. She didn’t want him to know the truth.

Chet knew the answer that she wasn’t able to verbalize. He had been seeing it since the beginning of their relationship, and he understood it better than she might think. He continued kneading her back with his fingertips, leaning down closely to her ear. Softly, he whispered. “You DO deserve it, baby. No matter what you might believe, or what you’ve been told. You DO deserve to be treated well.” 

Her only response was a nearly silent sniffle.

He continued to caress her back with long slow strokes, raking his fingers down her spine then kneading the soft areas in the small of her back. He no longer felt the knots he had been working so hard to relieve. Slowly he moved his hands up and down her body, watching as his words and actions pulled tears from her closed eyes. “You are worthy, Caroline. You and Corrie are worthy of the best this world has to offer. One day, I hope to make you believe me… And believe in yourself, too.” He watched as her tears rolled out of the corner of her eye, dripping off the edge of her nose and onto the burgundy bedspread. 

He was right. She didn’t feel like she deserved to be happy. Her entire life had been spent feeling like she was unworthy of unconditional love. She blamed herself for her parents dying in the car accident. She blamed herself for getting pregnant as a teenager. She blamed herself for Corey’s death. She blamed herself for Charles and Mim Marks losing their only child in Vietnam. And she blamed herself for her daughter being born fatherless. Now, with happiness literally at her front door, she was struggling to accept it. 

Chet removed his shirt, lying down beside her, nearly on top of her. He wanted her to feel safe and secure, nestled in the warmth of his body. His naked torso touching hers held no sexual overture. It was all about love, feeling and touching, sensing that he was there and was hiding nothing from her. There was no barrier between them, and nothing for her to feel guilty about. He slowly ran a hand down her hair, continuing it along her back. He leaned in closely once more, still hearing her soft sniffling sounds. 

“Caroline Marks, I love you more than anything or anyone in this world. I’m only half a man when I’m without you. You make me whole, and… And I just want you to believe me and accept my love for you.”

She was unable to speak, barely even able to breath as her emotions continued to overwhelm her. He was so close that his breath was hot on her neck, and his mustache tickled her ear. Finally, she was able to nod her head in agreement. 

“Good girl. That’s all I’m askin’ for. Just let me love you. Let me take care of you. Let me be here for you… No matter how long it takes for your heart to believe what I already know is true. You are worthy, Caroline Marks. Don’t let the things that happened years ago continue to haunt you today. Just let it go, please? For me, let it go.”

“I’ll… try,” she croaked out, enjoying the relaxation his touch and his nearness had brought to her. His partial nudity made her think he might need something from her, as well. “Do you, um, do you want sex tonight?”

“No,” he quickly responded. Under other circumstances, he would have jumped at the opportunity to make love to her again, but tonight he knew she needed something else. “You’re tired, and… Well, now isn’t the time. I just wanted to be near you, to touch you. That’s all. We don’t have to be intimate every time we’re together.” He rested his arm across her back, laying his forearm on top of hers, and intertwining their fingers. “I love you, baby.”

She sniffled once more. “I love you, too, Chet. Please, stay with me tonight… Please?”

Finally, he realized he might be getting through to her. She was asking him for something she wanted, something she needed, and he was more than willing to give it to her. “Are you sure? What about Corrie?” 

“She’s asleep. You can leave before she wakes up in the morning. I – I need you… Please?” She raised up enough to roll onto her side, curling into his naked torso. She laid her head along his shoulder, relishing the feeling of security he gave her. She felt him kiss her lightly on the top of her head, pulling her into a gentle embrace.

“I’d love to stay with you tonight, baby. I’ll be right here beside you whenever you need me. I need you, too.”

E!

The sun had already set when Mike pulled to a stop in a parking lot near the address where John and Roy had been called for a suicide attempt the previous day. He turned off the ignition, rolled down the window, and waited. He had no idea when the woman he thought might be Alexia Lopez would walk out of the building, but he wanted to be close by when she did.

It took a couple of hours, but he finally saw the light in the apartment turn off, and moments later a young woman walked out of the building. Using the glow from the nearby street light, he looked down at the picture he held in his hand of Alexia when she was a young teenager. When he looked back up, the young woman was walking in his direction, and he saw the same uncanny resemblance that Marco spoke of. He pocketed the picture then reached for the door handle just as a police cruiser pulled up beside her. Although he couldn’t hear the conversation, he could tell that the police officer wasn’t trying to arrest her.

Alexia walked slowly up the street headed for an intersection she knew would be popular. She needed to find more johns on this particular night in order to pay off her debt to Ricardo. As she painfully walked, she heard a car approaching her from behind. Hoping for a quick payday, she stopped walking and looked over her left shoulder. What she saw made her heart skip a beat. A black and white police car pulled to a stop just ahead of the place where she stood. Knowing she had not yet done anything illegal, she pulled the sweater tightly around her body. She did not need this type of interruption hindering her tonight.

“Miss?”

“Yea? I ain’t done nothing wrong.”

The police officer nodded his head, knowing that she was right. “Yes, I know. I just need to ask you a question, okay?”

“Hurry up, I got to be somewhere soon,” she said, hugging her own midsection.

“Do you know a young woman named, Peggy Boucher?”

Alexia gulped. She did know Peggy, but hadn’t seen her in a while. “Yea, why?”

“Miss, I’m afraid we’re looking for her next of kin. She was killed in a car accident yesterday morning.”

Alexia stumbled on her stilettos for a moment, catching her balance by reaching out for a nearby garbage can. “Um, no… She doesn’t have any family.”

“Do you know where she lived?”

“Ah, somewhere in Compton. I think she lives, um, lived on 120th Street, but I’m not sure,” she responded distantly. She wanted to be sad for the young woman, yet, she couldn’t. She was out of this life now, and if Alexia was honest with herself, she was actually jealous of Peggy Boucher.

“Okay, um, thank you. Be careful, Miss.” The unidentified officer rolled up his window as he and his partner drove away.

Alexia stood beside the garbage can for a moment, inhaling deeply. First her roommate tried to kill herself and then Peggy died in the same day. There was nothing but bad things happening around her… And to her.

Mike continued to watch as the young woman finally began walking again, continuing in her westward direction heading towards him. When she got close enough for him to call out to her, he took a deep breath and spoke up. “Hi there,” he heard himself say, feeling as if he were in an out-of-body experience. He was more than nervous; he was terrified. The last thing he wanted was to be seen by a police officer talking to a prostitute. He was glad he had thought to remove his Fire Department identification before he left home, just in case.

“Hey,” Alexia purred, taking on the persona she often used when working the streets. She cut her eyes from side to side looking for the police car, but didn’t see it. She then swished her hips as she walked over to the pick-up truck where the handsome man was seated. “Looking for a little company?”

Mike had to clear his throat in order to find his voice, then shifted in his seat nervously. “Ahem, actually, yes, I am.”

“Well, whatcha in the mood for?” She asked, leaning her palms against the window ledge. She recognized his type and knew he wouldn’t be a threat to harm her.

Mike couldn’t make the words come out of his mouth, and knew that she sensed his distress.

“Don’t be nervous,” she said. “I don’t bite… Unless you want me to.”

“Yea, um, would you, I mean, can we just talk… maybe?”

“I don’t get paid to talk, asshole,” she spat out coldly, backing away.

“I’ll pay you,” he offered, holding up a ten dollar bill. “Whatever you normally charge for… you know… I’ll pay you, just to sit with me and… talk… this time.” His nervousness was even worse than he had imagined it would be. He felt as tongue-tied as Johnny in front of a news camera.

Alexia looked at him curiously. She had seen this behavior plenty of times. “Your first time, huh?”

Mike nodded shamefully, hanging his head slightly. “Yea… I just… I need to, uh, to be with someone tonight… Just for a little while.”

“Alright,” she acquiesced. “Ten bucks will get ya about 20 minutes. No more, unless you pay me for it. For me, time is money, ya know?”

Mike couldn’t believe it. She was actually going to get into his truck with him. He watched in stunned silence as she quickly walked around to the passenger’s side of the vehicle and climbed in.

“Go up to the next street and take a left. There’s a couple of old abandoned buildings there. Not alotta traffic, so we can just sit in the parking lot for a few minutes.”

Mike looked over at the young woman sitting near him and he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, she was Alexia Lopez. Now, all he had to do was convince her to trust him. He cranked his pick-up and shifted into gear. Slowly, he inched forward, taking a left at the stop sign. He tried to sneak a glance at her as they passed beneath a street light, but she kept looking out the window away from him. As he neared their destination, he found his voice.

“What’s your name?”

“Does it matter?” Alexia questioned. Rarely did any of her johns ask for her name. More often than not, they just told her what they wanted, she gave them a price, and they headed for a darkened ally to complete the deal.

“Guess not,” Mike muttered. His voice was beginning to sound less child-like. He eased to a stop behind an old warehouse. There was just enough light coming into the vehicle from the few semi-functional street lights that he was able to get a better look at her. He noticed the bruising near her left ear, and what appeared to be finger print bruises just above her exposed collarbone. He assumed there were more beneath her scant clothing. “I’m Michael, just in case you wanted to know.”

“I don’t. Strictly business.” Her voice was stern, but her heart was aching. This man seemed like he was genuine; a real good guy. Her curiosity was piqued by his innocent mannerisms. Why was he out looking for a hooker? He was handsome, well-mannered, and he obviously was employed. His hands seemed accustomed to working, yet his appearance was neat and well-kempt. He was physically fit, well-spoken, polite… Why wasn’t he in a happy relationship? And if he wasn’t in a relationship, with all that he seemed to have going for him, he should at least be able to get sex without having to pay for it. So, why was he picking her up tonight? And why was he wanting to ‘just talk?’

He shifted into park and turned off the ignition. The usual sounds of the city seemed amplified as they sat in total silence. He had so many questions he wanted to ask her, but couldn’t decide which ones would be the most benign. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten or alarm her.

“You do realize that your time started when I got in, right?”

“Um, yea… I understand.” He rubbed his chin for a moment, then ran his fingers across his forehead. The inside of the cab seemed stuffy, even with his window rolled down, and a cool night breeze blowing. 

She almost felt sorry for him; he seemed so nervous and unsure of himself. She decided to start a conversation, anything to end the strange silence. “It’s Michael, right?”

He looked over at her when she called out his name. “Yea, that’s right.”

“I’m Alexandra,” she introduced herself, holding out her right hand. It certainly wasn’t her usual routine, but then again, this john wasn’t like her usual customers, either.

Mike felt silly shaking hands with a prostitute, but he accepted the friendly gesture, extending his own right hand. “Nice to meet you, Alexandra.” He cringed at the stupidity of his response. 

“Yea… Same here,” she responded, relinquishing her grasp of his hand. “You seem terribly nervous. Why did you pick me up? I mean, you can talk to a woman at a bar. You don’t have to hire a hooker for that.”

Mike felt like kicking himself. He was blowing this whole thing. He certainly didn’t want to have to tell Marco that he let Alexia get away without obtaining any information. He had to come up with a plausible explanation quickly. “Well… See, I’ve got some questions and… Um, I have this friend…”

“Yea, go on,” Alexia encouraged him. She wanted to roll her eyes at the whole ‘I’ve got a friend’ comment, but she was intrigued, and he was paying her, so she decided to allow him to continue. She assumed that the ‘friend’ he had referred to was actually Mike, himself, but she would play the game in order to secure her pay.

“He has a, uh, a relative who’s in the same… In the same business as you.” Knowing he lacked the ability to lie convincingly, and aware that his acting skills might not be up to par, he decided to use truth as his strategy… At least, a version of the truth. 

“She turns tricks?” 

“Yea… Anyway, he was trying to figure out why she, uh… Why she chose to do it, and… And I was willing to help him out… So, I’m wondering what makes a woman decide to make a living this way?” He saw the pain in her face, and feared he may have offended her deeply. “I - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I mean, it’s a free country. You can do anything you like, and I’m not judging you or anything.” He knew he was stammering, but he just couldn’t stop himself.

“Alright, look. You’ve used up several of your minutes. Pay up,” she stated, holding out her hand, palm up. “And I’ll answer your question.”

Mike quickly placed the ten dollar bill in her hand. He waited as she folded it up tightly, storing it inside her small purse. “Okay, I don’t know of anyone who looks back on their childhood and remembers dreaming of being a working girl. Most of us hit the streets when we’re young. We got no skills for any other job, usually homeless, and always hungry. Out here, it’s survival of the fittest. The weak lambs get preyed on by the wolves who work these areas.”

Mike’s stomach lurched at the analogy she was using.

“Does that answer your question?”

“Yea… So, the lambs, as you say, they sound like they leave a pretty bad flock if they’re willing to go out among these wolves.”

Alexia looked away from him. “Most do… Not all,” she mumbled. “Sometimes… Sometimes they just want to graze in lush pastures. By the time they find out that the greener grass is poison, they’re trapped… And they can’t ever go back.”

Mike felt like racing her over to her childhood home to prove how wrong she was. Then realized that there was probably a lot more to the story that she wasn’t telling him. Her rescue, as he had begun to think of it, was going to take more than one night. When she didn’t continue, he wasn’t sure how to keep the conversation going. She was still looking out the passenger’s side window; her mind seeming to be a thousand miles away. He looked around the area, seeing no one and feeling less nervous about being with her. “Look, can I buy you something to eat?”

Alexia looked at him as if he had taken leave of his senses. No one had ever offered to buy her a meal, not since she first met Ricardo, anyway. “Um, no, that’s okay. I’m really not hungry.”

“How about a soda?” Mike asked. The stunned look on her face nearly broke his heart. There was no way that Marco could have reached out to her the way Mike was doing now. It would have killed his friend to see his sister looking so bruised, battered, lost, and… needy. 

“Um… I’d really like that… If you don’t mind.”

Mike cranked up the pick-up and slowly backed out of the parking lot. At least, this would give him a little extra time with her. Perhaps he could get additional information that might help the Lopez family. If nothing else, maybe he could begin to gain her trust. He fully intended to seek her out again as he worked to return her to her family. He drove around to the corner of the warehouse, pulling to a stop at the stop sign. Seeing nothing coming from either direction, he pulled into the street heading for the nearest gas station. “So… Where are you from?”

“LA,” she responded quietly.

“Me, too. Been here my whole life,” Mike offered, hoping she would take the bait.

“Yea… Same here.”

He realized that garnering information from her was more like pulling teeth, but he had at least found out that she wasn’t claiming to be from New Orleans, as her name might suggest. He saw an all-night gas station up ahead and knew his time with her was quickly ending. “So, Alexandra is a pretty name. I bet you get called Alex a lot, don’t you?”

“I get called a lotta things… Alex is one of the nicer ones.”

Mike groaned inwardly, as he flipped on his blinker. “What should I call you?”

“Whatever you want, as long as you’re paying me to do it,” she snickered, sarcastically. This john was so different from all the others; he was a nice change of pace for her.

Mike parked on the side of the Union 76 Station, away from the lights near the gas pumps. He still felt self-conscious riding around with a prostitute. He looked over at her once more before he went inside. “Are you sure you don’t want a candy bar or something?”

“No, thank you.”

“You’ve, ah, you’ve been very easy to talk to. I’ll get you a soda and a little snack as a tip,” he winked. “Be right back.” He stepped away from the pick-up and headed inside the store. He perused the aisle of snacks, feeling as if he needed to get her something to eat, even if she had refused his offer earlier. She was thin and pale. He picked up a bag of peanuts, a candy bar, and a soda, then walked over to the cashier to pay for the items. 

With his brown bag of goodies in hand, he headed out the door. Just as he got to his vehicle, he caught a whiff of a familiar odor. He looked around him, trying to determine the direction of the wind. He opened the door, handing Alexia the brown paper sack. “Give me just a minute.” 

He then walked around to the darkened rear the older gas station. “Shit!” He cursed, scurrying back to the girl in his truck. “Um, go inside and warn the cashier. There’s a fire back here. Have him call the fire department, shut off the gas valve, and make sure everyone’s out of the building.” He then retrieved an old jacket he kept behind the seat of his truck, and headed towards the flames. 

Alexia did as requested, even though she hated the way the old man looked at her when she rushed inside. “Sir… There’s a fire in the back of your building.”

“Yea, yea,” he waved her off. “There’s a fire right here, too. I bet you know how to work a hose to put it out though, don’tcha?” He responded in a raspy voice.

“Just call the damn fire department, you bastard,” she muttered at him, exiting the building, not knowing if he would call for help or not. Regardless, she knew that eventually emergency personnel would be summoned, and she didn’t want to be anywhere near the scene when they arrived. She couldn’t risk being seen by her older brother, if he happened to respond to the alarm. Los Angeles County was a big place, but she had already seen him at one fire and wasn’t willing to risk a second encounter. She thought about going back to Michael, at least to thank him for the soda, and whatever else he had purchased for her. She could tell by the size of the bag that there was more in it than just an aluminum can. Instead, she walked away into the darkness of the night. She found a quiet spot to consume the beverage and peanuts, saving the candy bar for her breakfast. 

Mike realized quickly that the fire which had begun near the dumpster in the back of the station, was rapidly approaching the nearby grease pit. He tried to extinguish the flames by smothering them with his jacket, but they continued to spread beyond his reach. He had been a fire fighter long enough to know when he needed more help to fight a blaze. He ran back around to the entrance of the building, stunned to see the cashier still sitting on his stool. “Did you shut off the gas?”

“What?” The old man asked, a half smoked cigar dangling from his mouth.

“Your gas shut off! Didn’t she tell you that there’s a fire out back?”

“Aww, hell…, Um, I’ll get it. I – I didn’t think she knew what she was talkin’ about,” the old man mumbled, panic flashing across his ruddy face as he stumbled off the stool, heading for the front door.

“Alright, I’ll call it in. Anybody else here besides you?” Mike questioned, fearing that the business was going to be heavily damaged.

“Nah, just me,” the overweight man mumbled as he maneuvered past the slimmer man. “Phone’s behind the counter.”

Mike stepped around the cash register. The stench that assaulted his nose was emanating from a large ashtray on the shelf beneath the counter, filled with the remnants of cigars, made him realize that he might have saved the cashier’s life. The building could have been fully engulfed by the time the cashier smelled anything. He pulled the phone to him, dialing the familiar number to headquarters.

Alexia sat in the shadow of a building, hiding from the activity at the gas station. In the distance, she heard sirens begin to wail and noticed that the flames were climbing to the roof in the back of the building. “Be careful, Michael,” she whispered into the night. “Not many good guys left in this world.”

As the fire station responding to Mike’s call jumped into action, their lights reflected off the glass store front and the puddles of water that were quickly forming in the crevices of the asphalt. It was both familiar and foreign to Mike, seeing it as a civilian. The business would not be a total loss, but it was going to sustain heavy damage. Mike walked back over to his pick-up. He had hoped that Alexia might have stayed there, but was not surprised to find the vehicle empty. He had wanted to offer her a little additional money in the hopes of spending more time with her. However, he had made progress, and he knew it. At least now, he would have something to share with Marco in the morning, and he would definitely be trying to make contact with her again. 

E!  
Marco awoke the following morning, feeling more rested than he had in a very long time. His pain level for his injury had decreased significantly, as had the swelling. He looked at the clock beside his bed, surprised by how late he had slept, and immediately wondered how the night had gone for Mike. Had he seen her? Had he been able to talk to her? He pushed the covers back, pushing himself up. He needed to make a trip to the bathroom, and so, he reached for his crutches.

A gentle knocking on the door followed by his mother’s voice caught his attention.

“Marco?”

“I’m awake; you can come in,” he said with a yawn, trying to gain his balance on his uninjured ankle.

“I hate to disturb your rest, but Mike Stoker is here. He seems anxious to talk to you,” Maria whispered to him, not wanting their house guest to hear her. 

If Mike was in a hurry to talk to him, then Marco knew that something must have happened during Mike’s search. “Okay, let me use the bathroom and brush my teeth. Um, just tell him to come on back here and we’ll talk in my bedroom. This might be something that Antonio doesn’t need to hear.”

Marco hobbled on his crutches to the bathroom in the hallway, hearing Mike and Maria carrying on an indistinct conversation as Maria escorted him back to Marco’s room. As soon as Marco had taken care of his personal business, he returned to his bedroom, his heart thudding inside his chest as he waited for what he hoped would be good news.

Mike looked up when he heard the bumping sounds of Marco maneuvering down the hallway on his crutches. The older man walked through the open doorway, leaning over on the wooden props. Marco reached behind him, pushing the bedroom door shut, unable to look in Mike’s direction until he knew they would not be overheard by curious little ears. Finally, after ensuring that the door was securely shut, his dark eyes looked over at his engineer who stood beside the window, an encouraging smile spreading on his face.

“M-Mike?” He questioned, his voice sounding as weak as his arms and legs felt. He was trembling all over, feeling waves of nausea assaulting him as he waited what seemed like an eternity to hear the answer to the question he had not yet asked. “Did you…,” he gasped, swallowing hard to keep his stomach calm. His breathing came in short rapid gulps as he stared at the taller man, silently begging him for some shred of evidence that the woman he had seen in the emergency department at Rampart the previous day had actually been his youngest sibling.

Mike’s blue eyes sparkled in the early morning sunlight as it filtered into the room. He managed to crack a slight smile as he gave Marco the news he had been wanting. “You’re right, Lopez. Miss LeRoux definitely is Alexia… I talked to her for a few minutes last night.” 

Mike walked over nearer the place where Marco stood. He watched as his words caused Marco’s eyes to become teary. The lineman nodded his head slightly, scrubbing his face with an open palm. He had become proficient at balancing his crutches near his sides in order to free his hands. He gasped for air, but was unable to find his voice to offer anything to the conversation he had waited so long to hear. 

Mike saw how much his friend was trembling and suggested that he take a seat. “Marco? C’mon, sit down.” He guided the older man over to the unmade bed. He saw how rapidly Marco was breathing and feared he might hyperventilate. “Take it easy, buddy. Slow down your breaths.” He kept his hand on Marco’s shoulder, grounding him in the present moment. “It’s going to take us a while to get her home, but Marco… She HAS been found.”


	13. chapter 13

A/N: I cannot thank you all enough for your encouragement and kind words. This chapter is a little longer than most, but I wanted to explain how Alexia got into prostitution. It’s a very common practice by pimps. This chapter also has a little more foul language. I just wanted to warn the reader.

 

Chapter 13

 

Marco felt the blood draining from his face, heard the rushing sound in his ears, and he knew he was going to faint if he didn’t get himself together. This was the news he and his family had been waiting to hear for almost five years. She wasn’t home, but she had been located. It had only taken Mike one night to do what the rest of the Lopez family had been unable to do for years now. Then, he remembered the chance glimpse he had gotten of her in the hallway at Rampart. He thought of all the things that happened on that day, and how everything led up to that one fateful moment when he got to see her eye to eye. 

“Gracias, a Dios,” he murmured, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands. He felt Mike’s firm grip remaining on his shoulder, sharing his strength with the weeping man. “Thank you, too, Mike.”

“You’re welcome, Pal. And, I think God would say the same thing if you could hear Him audibly.” Mike smiled, feeling much better now that his friend seemed to be returning to his faith. “We haven’t gotten her back yet, but at least we know where she lives, and how to find her. I’m going back over there again as soon as I can.”

“Uh, let me get you some money, okay?” Marco asked, peering up with his reddened eyes at his friend. He was feeling more relief than he had felt in a very long time. He knew they had a long way to go, but Mike had made contact, and Marco had shared his burden with his best friend, Chet. Both men had been completely supportive. Maybe, just maybe things in the Lopez home were about to get better. He couldn’t wait to fill his mother in on the latest events. He didn’t want to get her spirits up too high, but he wanted to at least give her a glimmer of hope that she might once again see her daughter.

E!

Over the next month, Alexia became accustomed to seeing Mike a couple of times a week. Each time she left her apartment, she would look around for his pick-up truck. He wasn’t always there, but when he was, she felt a sense of relief. He had begun to give her additional money, and had requested nothing more than her company. She had no idea why he had chosen to approach her on that first night, but the more comfortable she felt with him, the more she began to share about her life.

“Hello,” she spoke calmly, opening the passenger’s side door of the vehicle one night. She couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief to see him as it had been nearly a week since they had last met. She had begun to think that maybe he was growing tired of her.

“How are you this evening?” He asked, waiting for her to be seated before he drove to their usual spot behind the old warehouse.

“I’m okay,” she said, looking away briefly, unsure if she should tell him the truth. This – whatever it was between them – was something she didn’t understand, but she certainly didn’t want it to end. The money was good, easier than anything else she had to do, but there was still something weighing heavily on her mind. The question continuing to nag her could be summed up in one simple word – why?

Mike reached inside the white paper bag, withdrawing a hamburger and French fries for her. He passed them over along with a couple of napkins. “Here you go. Just the way you like it.”

She accepted the food graciously. Food was often in short supply around her sparse apartment. There was also a soda in the cup holder nearest her. She knew from experience, that it was for her, too. 

Mike watched as she hungrily devoured the food he had given her. He thought of how Marco and Maria loved to cook, and knew how much it would mean to them to have her enjoy a meal that they had prepared just for her. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to meet you for a few days. Some guys needed to be off so I worked their shifts for them,” he explained. 

“You said you, um, you drive a truck?” She asked around a mouthful of food. 

Mike almost laughed out loud at how much she reminded him of Johnny eating at the station. “Yea,” he offered, hoping she wouldn’t ask for more details.

“What color?”

“Red,” Mike answered quickly. He didn’t elaborate hoping to get the topic of conversation off of him.

“What kind? A Mack?”

“No… I just got a new one not too long ago. I had a Crown, but now I have a Ward LaFrance.” He cleared his throat nervously, anxious to change the subject. The last thing he wanted was for her to figure out that he worked for the fire department.

“Oh,” she swallowed again, her face wrinkling with concentration. She couldn’t remember ever seeing those trucks before, but then again she really hadn’t been paying attention back in the early days of working the freeways. She reached for a few more French fries. “Can I ask you another question?”

Mike was growing more nervous by the second, but wanted to continue the conversation. “Um, sure.”

“If you drive a big truck, then why aren’t you picking up lot lizards? You could probably get more information if you interviewed more girls than just me. I mean, I really like you being a customer and all, but I’m… I’m just trying to help you out, you know? You’ve been really nice to me.”

“Lot lizards?” Mike already knew what the phrase meant, but this was an opportunity to get the conversation back onto prostitution rather than on his line of work.

“Yea,” she began, sipping her soda, then sliding a little closer to him. “The younger girls who go from one truck driver to the next at the truck stops. That’s where a lot of us get started when we’re first turned out… Before we get moved to the streets,” she offered, allowing her hand to gently brush his forearm.

“Oh,” Mike said softly, noting that she was continuing to inch closer to him. “Well, I just make short runs, so…”

“So you don’t hang out at the truck stops then,” she responded, reaching over to grasp his hand. “I get it. Um, look…, you’ve been paying me a lot of money, and… And I haven’t done anything to earn it, really. Um, why don’t you let me…,” her silent offer was made by moving her hand from his arm to his crotch.

Mike felt as if his manhood had been electrocuted. “AARGH, NO! Um, I – I mean, I don’t wanna, uh, no…. I’m just tryin’ to get some…”

“That’s what I’m offering you.”

“N-no, not that. I mean, I just… I appreciate it, but… I just… I can’t, that’s all,” he stammered, trying to melt into the driver’s side door to get as far away from her as he could. There was no way he was going to have any kind of sex with a prostitute, but certainly not the sister of his friend.

“Ooooohhhh,” she responded, sliding back across the seat. “I get it. It’s okay, Michael. It happens to a lot of men.”

“No, it doesn’t… I mean, that isn’t the case here. I’m… Uh, m-my plumbing is working just fine, really…,“ he stuttered, trying to calm himself down.

“Well, I can hook you up with some guys I know,” she stated, assuming that might be his preference.

Mike drew his eyebrows together, feeling his mouth going dry at the thought. “Oh, hell no! Nu-uh, I – I don’t… Just, uh… No. Really, I’m just trying to get some information from you.”

“Well… I don’t know what else I can tell you, but… I… I like meeting with you. I just thought… I thought that maybe I could do something nice for you. I… I like you, Michael.”

Mike felt the feeling returning to his lower extremities as he fought to regain his normal rate of respiration. His body didn’t start to relax until she started sliding back across the bench seat away from him. He had to admit that her actions caught him off guard, but her statement had just confirmed that he was reaching her. It was taking a little longer than he had hoped, and had a couple of unintended consequences, but it was happening. He was earning her trust. “I like you, too, Lexi.”

Immediately, her body stiffened, and she released a gasp. Mike cringed at his mistake. “Wha – What happened? What’d I do wrong?” He asked, hoping he could simply claim innocence. 

Alexia fought back the tears, her body trembling uncontrollably. “I… Ah, I haven’t be – been called that…. In a long time,” she whimpered, her breath hitching. 

“I’m sorry, Alexandra. I didn’t know,” Mike lied, hoping he was doing so convincingly enough to not raise her suspicions. “I just thought… I mean, it makes sense that it would be short for Alexandra, right?”

She shook her head, still wiping the tears away from her eyes. Only her immediate family had ever called her Lexi, and she had convinced herself that she would never hear that nickname again. Bri had often referred to her as Lex, but never Lexi.

“I’m sorry; really, I didn’t mean to upset you like this.”

It took a couple of minutes for her to regain her composure. She hadn’t cried in a long time. It actually felt good, cleansing. Sniffling, and wiping her eyes, she finally looked over at the man she knew only as Michael. “Um, can I tell you something? Something almost no one else knows.”

“Of course. I’m really good at keeping secrets,” he said, offering her a slight smile. He was very careful not to actually tell her that he wouldn’t tell anyone. Depending on what he was about to hear, he might need to share it with Marco.

“M-My name isn’t really Alexandra.” She looked down in her lap, wondering what he might say.

“Okay, um, may I ask you what your real name is?” He watched as she swallowed hard. This was proving to be much more difficult than he had imagined.

“It’s, uh, it’s Alexia. My real name is Alexia and… And my family always called me… Lexi,” she whispered, struggling to get the words out around the lump in her throat. Her tears began to fall again, dampening her wringing hands.

Mike wanted so badly to hug her, to offer her some bit of human contact that wasn’t sexual, abusive, or both, but he wasn’t sure how she might feel about it. Instead, he reached out and grasped her quivering hand, squeezing it lightly. “I’m sorry, Alexia. I see, now, why what I called you upset you.”

She gave him a brief knowing nod, but didn’t look at him.

He gave her a few moments to settle back down, watching her breathing begin to return to normal before he spoke up again. “Um, why did you change your name?”

His larger hand felt so protective, not threatening as she was accustomed to. She relished the feel of his warmth. “Ricardo… He, he knows someone in Baton Rouge. He buys…,” she sniffled again, still holding tightly to Mike’s hand. “He knows this woman who works in the vital records department there, and when he needs a new identification for one of his girls, she sells him the name of someone who’s about the new girl’s age. They… The names... They’re from babies or kids wh – who died very young. That way if the cops try to run a search on them, nothing turns up.”

Mike tried to keep the shock out of his voice. He had to keep her talking. She was finally revealing information that might help them get her out of the mess she was currently living in. “That’s illegal.”

Alexia nodded her head. “I’m sure it is. But, like with me… I was fourteen when I left home so I didn’t have a driver’s license. The only identification I have is from Alexandra LeRoux… Humph,” she muttered, still trembling, but feeling bolder as she told her story. “I guess it’s fitting that I’m a walking dead girl, just a ghost.”

“You’re not dead, Alexia. You’re very much alive. Why don’t you come home with me? Get away from Ricardo and all this mess. You don’t have to do this, you know?”

Her shoulders began to shake convulsively. “Yes… I do. You don’t understand, Michael. I’m doing this for my family,” she stated, looking at him with dark eyes pleading for him to understand. “I don’t matter anymore, but they do. I – I love them so much. I can’t let anything happen to them.”

Mike brushed his thumb across the back of her hand. He was getting more information from her in this one encounter than in all the others combined. He had to keep her talking, even if it took all night… And all the money he had. “You have family and someone wants to hurt them? Why?”

She released a sound that was half laughter and half wail. She had already told him more than she should have, but she couldn’t stop. “H-he knows where they live. He’ll kill them if I leave before he releases me.” 

“Kill them?” He repeated, shocked at what he was hearing.

“He’s killed before, Michael. He killed one of his girls when I first started. She refused to work this big party and… He beat her to death.” Alexia looked down, the thought of her mother or her precious son enduring the same ordeal brought on a fresh wave of weeping. “He,” she sniffled again. “When my roommate, Bri, tried to leave when she was pregnant, he, um, he beat her and set her apartment on fire. Her baby died… That’s why she lives with me now.”

Mike wanted to throw up, but he simply couldn’t allow his body to interfere with her confessions. He swallowed back the bile, continuing to encourage her to talk. “But… I mean, why can’t the police protect your family?”

“Who the hell’s going to believe someone like me? My family… They’re good people, Michael. But… I’m justa… Just a street-walker. I’m nobody. They’re ashamed of me. I – I don’t blame them. I’m ashamed of me, too. I just… I thought that maybe one day… One day I’d be released, but now… Now, I don’t know.” She looked over at the man who was sitting beside her, the man who had showed her such compassion, only wanting her to talk to him. He hadn’t asked for any sexual service, and yet, he was paying her as if she were performing a multitude of sex acts for him. Now, she wanted to tell him everything. At least someone would know her story. The way things had been happening around her, she felt as though she might never have a chance to say these things out loud again. She feared she would die alone with no one knowing her true identity, a Jane Doe for eternity.

Mike looked at his watch, noting that they had been talking for nearly two hours. He saw her looking at him, and he smiled. “It’s okay, Alexia. I’ve got all night.”

“I’ve got to make more money, though. But… Can I tell you the rest of my story? I’ll make it quick.”

Mike reached into his wallet, removing another twenty dollar bill, the last of the money Marco had given him for Alexia. “Go ahead, this gives us another 45 minutes or so, right?”

She held up her hand, refusing his money. “No… I’m asking for the time. I can’t charge you for it.”

“You aren’t,” he replied, pressing the bill into her hand. “It’s a gift, okay?”

She nodded, accepting the money, and feeling more like a thief than a hooker. She was the one benefitting from this talk, but Michael was the one paying her. It was her only option at the moment, and so she folded it up and placed it in her purse. “Thank you,” she whispered, offering him a half smile before exhaling loudly. “Okay,” she began, using the last of the napkins from her dinner to dry her face. “My Papa died when I was eight. My brothers… I have four older brothers… They all tried to look after me and help our Mama, but as I got older, I just… All I wanted was to get out of the house. I was raised in a Catholic family, Michael. And I hated God. I know that sounds terrible, but He took my Papa away from me, and… And I hated Him for it. I just wanted God to be hurt as bad as He had hurt me and my family. So, I started sneaking out at night, going to parties, experimenting with drugs and sex, and… By the time I was fourteen, I was pregnant.”

“You aren’t the only girl that’s happened to.” Mike didn’t know what else to say to encourage her. She had responded to his touch earlier, and so he once again reached out to her, grasping her hand in his. “Go on, I’m listening.”

“Anyway, my boyfriend asked me to move in with him, so I left home one night. I just packed a bag and walked out the front door while my family was at Mass. I – I never looked back.”

“And Ricardo was your boyfriend, right?”

She shook her head. “No, Brian was my boyfriend’s name. He’s the father of my son. Anyway, we moved in together, and it was great for a couple of weeks. Then things went bad really quickly. I was in my fifth month or so by then, so I was beginning to show. He told me he lost his job, and that I’d have to do something to earn some money while he looked for work, or else we’d be homeless. No one wanted to hire a pregnant fourteen year old. Then one day he brought Ricardo to our apartment. He offered to teach me how to make a little money. He… He got me started selling drugs for him. Brian kept telling me that it was only going to be for a little while, just until he could find another job.” She heard the trembling in her own voice, but was powerless to stop it. She had never told anyone how she had gotten entrapped in prostitution, but Michael seemed so easy to talk to that she just couldn’t stop telling her story. “After a few weeks, he started demanding more money than what the drugs would bring in.” Her head dropped, and her tears began again. Her breathing became ragged once more. “I… I had to do something to get the money he wanted… I didn’t know what else to... to do.”

“It’s okay. I’m not judging you. I’m here for you.” Mike continued to stroke the back of her hand, unsure of what else to do.

“Thanks,” she croaked out. “I turned my first trick on my fifteenth birthday. I went home with forty-eight dollars, and… And vomited all over the bathroom. After that, I was doing at least six guys a night. Brian would encourage me, taking the money to pay the rent and buy our groceries. That lasted for three weeks and then… Then one morning, I came home… seven months pregnant, and the apartment was empty. Brian was gone, he’d taken all the money, and all our stuff. Ten minutes later, Ricardo knocked on the door. He saw me crying and he consoled me. He said that I could live with him for a while, that he’d help me.”

“But, he’s your pimp, right?”

“Yea… He’s a liar, and a, um… He’s just a shit head, okay?” She laughed, nervously.

“Okay, I’ll agree with you there.”

“But, he did take care of me for the rest of my pregnancy. He fed me, clothed me, sheltered me, and… And he didn’t make me work, anymore… Not until after the baby came.”

“I don’t know much about, um, about the job, but I’d think that it isn’t something that pregnant women should do,” Mike said softly, hoping he wasn’t embarrassing her any more than she already was.

“Well, straight sex is only a part of the menu, Michael,” she stated. “There are other flavors of ice cream besides plain vanilla.”

“Yea… I guess I didn’t, um, I just… Uh, go on,” he stuttered, his face turning pink.

“When I went into labor, I was so scared. I… I really wanted my Mama.” Her tears burned hot trails down her cheeks as she remembered that long ago night. “Ricardo changed the minute the contractions started; he refused to let me call for help, or take me to the hospital until I promised him that I’d give the baby up for adoption.”

“Sick bastard,” Mike whispered, louder than he intended.

“Yea, I know. Anyway, I finally agreed. I would’ve said anything to get to a hospital for help. The pain was horrible. I didn’t know what was happening, and I was afraid that I was dying… Or worse, that my baby was going to die. I hadn’t gotten any care while I was pregnant,” she confessed, dropping her head again. She inhaled a ragged breath, finding her voice once more, and continued. “Ricardo told the nurses that he was the baby’s father, but that we weren’t married so we wanted to give the baby up. But in the delivery room, I told them I didn’t want to do that. So, they let me see him.” She smiled sweetly amid her tears, staring into the darkness in front of the vehicle, remembering her son’s cherubic face and dark tuft of thick hair. “When I held my baby boy, I… I just knew that I couldn’t do it. No matter what, I just couldn’t give him away to strangers. He was so tiny and helpless, and… And the life he was born into, it wasn’t his fault, you know? I told Ricardo that I wanted to give him to my Mama, and he agreed. I don’t know if that was the right thing to do or not, but it’s all a blur now. I was crying when I was filling out the form for his birth certificate. I barely remember even doing it. I… I named him Antonio. That’s my oldest brother’s middle name. Marco had tried so hard to be a father figure for me, but I was just too stubborn and headstrong. I wanted to do something to thank him for trying to help me after Papa died. I thought naming his nephew after him might be a nice thing to do. I… I wanted my son to grow up to be as good a man as Marco is. I hope that’s what’s happening.”

“I’m sure that Marco was pleased with the name, wasn’t he?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him since I left. See, Ricardo made me leave Antonio on my Mama’s door step. Which is how he knows where they live,” she mumbled, allowing her face to drop. “I left a note explaining that I wanted him called Antonio Lopez. I – I don’t know if Mama did that or not. I really don’t even know if she kept him. I hope she did. She’s a good mother.”

“I’m sure she is. Why don’t you call her and check on him?” Mike already knew the story of the phone calls around Maria’s birthday. 

“I wrote her a bunch of letters, but she never wrote back. Ricardo, would take them to the post office for me, and every day I’d ask him if I’d gotten a letter back from her. We had a post office box over in Torrance, so I knew she couldn’t find me with the return address I was using. He finally told me that he had gone over to her house to check on the baby. He said that she refused to talk to him. Told him that I… I was dead to her.” She broke down crying then, and Mike didn’t think about what he was doing until he had already reached out, pulling her into an embrace.

“I’m so sorry, Alexia.”

“I – I call her once a year, but… She just cries on the phone. I guess they’re angry tears. I just tell her ‘Happy Birthday… I love you, Mama,’ and I hang up. It’s all I can manage to say. I just can’t let her think that I’ve forgotten her birthday, you know? Even if she hates me now.”

Mike clenched his teeth, forcing himself to remain calm. He was beginning to see a completely different picture than the one Marco had painted for him regarding Alexia’s life. And, he was beginning to appreciate Maria’s intuition. Alexia wasn’t in control of her life, wasn’t making her own decisions. He had to say something to help her reason out what had happened over the last few years. “But, what if he was lying to you?” He released her when he felt her pulling back from him. Obviously, a hug was something she wasn’t used to receiving. 

“He’s definitely a liar, but… I don’t think he’s lying about that. I mean, why would my Mama want me back anyway? I’ve disappointed her in every way possible. And even if she did, my brothers would never allow it. I’ve brought too much shame on the Lopez family.”

“A mother’s love is incredibly forgiving,” Mike offered, hoping to give her some solace. “Brothers’ love can be, too.”

“Maybe…”

He watched as she continued to struggle with her thoughts. “There’s more isn’t there?”

She nodded, gulping past her anguish, fighting to continue. “That was the night I found out the whole truth. See, Ricardo explained to me that Brian was his ‘Main Man’,” she made quotation marks in the air with her fingers. 

“So he, um, this Brian was a recruiter, of sorts?” Mike questioned. Marco had already shared with him how some of the older girls would recruit younger ones. He assumed the same was true for young men, too.

“Yes… He never loved me; he just pretended in order to get me to have sex with him. Getting me pregnant wasn’t in the plan, though. I found out later that that wasn’t supposed to happen. He was just supposed to turn me into a bad girl, and convince me to run away.”

“That’s disgusting,” Mike stated, flatly. “So he tried to interfere in your relationship with your family, isolate you from them?”

She nodded her head in agreement. “Basically, he sold me to Ricardo for two hundred dollars,” Alexia continued with her sordid tale. “There’s this girl I know who… Well, I knew her. She’s dead now. Her name was Peggy Boucher; at least, that’s the name we all knew her by. Anyway, she did that, too.” She once again stared off into the distant darkness. “She used to let young girls drive a car her pimp let her use. Of course, the young girls thought it was great. Then they’d get in trouble with their parents for doing stuff like skipping school or staying out past curfew. That would cause the parents and the girls to argue until…”

“Until they ran away and ended up forced to work as lot lizards?”

“Yea… Peggy died a few weeks ago. At least… At least she’s out of this mess, and she isn’t pulling more girls into it.”

What he was hearing was nothing like the scenario Marco had envisioned his sister to be caught up in. And he began to suspect that he had assisted in the rescue of Alexia’s deceased friend. The story was sounding all too familiar. “What you’re describing is nothing more than modern-day slavery,” he said, feeling the heat rising inside the collar of his shirt.

“Kind of, I guess.”

“I’ll go with you to the police, Alexia. You can tell them what you know about Ricardo and then, maybe you can go home to your family.”

“No,” she began, shaking her head rapidly from side to side. “I can’t turn him in. They won’t believe me. Besides… I know it sounds crazy, but… I still care about him. He was good to me when I didn’t have anyone or anywhere to go.” She looked away from Mike, puzzle pieces were beginning to come together in her mind in a very familiar way. He seemed to know more than he should about the business, for a man who was extremely nervous when they first met. “I’ve… I’ve gotta go. I’ve said too much,” she began, opening the door to climb out. The cab of the pick-up seemed to be suffocating her as feelings were being resurrected from her past.

“No, Alexia… Please wait. Please? At least let me take you back to your apartment. I don’t want you walking around back here. It’s not safe.”

Alexia turned around and stared at him, her smudged make-up making her look like she had been in a really bad horror movie. “I’m not safe anywhere,” she said, backing away from the pick-up, and the man who had been so kind to her. In her mind, it was happening all over again. Michael was being good to her, too good. He wanted something. Just like Brian and then Ricardo. He wanted something from her. She wasn’t sure what, but she knew she had nothing left to give. She continued backing away from the truck, her mouth silently forming the word ‘no’ as she stepped backwards. She wanted so badly to believe that Mike was really who he said he was, but it didn’t make sense. He was getting nothing from her, and yet, he was paying her. She had to get away from him, away from whatever snare he was setting. She had to get back to Ricardo. The monster she knew was far better than the one she didn’t know at all.

E!

Marco arrived for his first day back on shift feeling anxious. He had talked to Mike the previous day and was aware of all that Lexi had shared with him. He remembered the look on his mother’s face when he left the house earlier. It was a mixture of pain and sorrow, fearing she may never see her daughter again. He desperately wanted to see his Mama smile once more, to see the color of joy return to her plump cheeks.

Mike was changing into his uniform when he heard the locker room door open. When he saw that it was Marco, his shoulders slumped a bit. He had told Marco all that Lexi had told him about her current life, but he hadn’t shared the part about Mike frightening her.

Marco stepped over to his engineer, peeking around the lockers to make sure no one else was listening. “Any more news?”

“No,” Mike began, tucking his blue shirt into his navy pants. “I had to work at 69’s yesterday so I didn’t make it out there last night.” He pulled on his black boots just as Marco began changing into his uniform. “Did you talk to Lieutenant Crockett?”

Marco knew that Mike wanted him to go to the police with what they had learned about Alexia’s situation, especially Ricardo’s plethora of criminal activities. He had been able to allow a couple of his friends to know about his sister’s situation, but the thought of taking it to a law enforcement officer didn’t sit well with him. A shadow crossed his face as he pulled off his shirt. “Not yet.”

“I know you don’t want anyone else to know, but I really think that he can help.”

“How?”

“Maybe he can figure out a way to arrest Ricardo or… I don’t know, maybe offer some advice on how to help Lexi get out of the business. We’ve known him for a while now, and… I think he’d keep the information in confidence, and… And really help.” He looked at the downcast man beside him. “I think this is bigger than us. Marco, I really think it’s time to call in a second alarm… while there’s still time for a rescue.” 

The lineman trusted his engineer with his own life every shift. Now, he was trusting the man with the life of his sister. If Mike thought it was time to go to the police, then Marco knew it had to be done. “Alright, I’ll… I’ll go after shift.” He removed the downtrodden look from his face as he prepared to face the rest of his crew mates.

The two men turned to leave the locker room just as Roy and Chet were arriving. The four men looked at each other and snickered. Johnny was going to be stuck with latrine duty again for this shift. 

Chet clapped his hands and rubbed them together, plotting. “Oh, yea. The Phantom’s gonna have fun today,” he said, scheming. 

“Kelly, knock it off, will ya?”

“Why? Unless, of course, you wanna set him up?” Chet asked the senior paramedic.

“No,” Roy deadpanned, placing his bag in his locker and beginning to peel out of his street clothes. “You don’t have to ride around with him complaining for the next 24 hours; I do. So don’t get him started, alright?”

Mike and Marco stepped out of the locker room, both men needing a fresh cup of coffee. Chet quickly dressed in his uniform, then moved over to the locker beside Roy’s. Roy cut his eyes at the annoying lineman, but he knew he was powerless to stop him. 

“Don’t be surprised if he gets you back one day,” Roy chided.

“Yea, yea… I’ll be waitin’.” Chet said, setting up the prank. As soon as he finished, he followed Roy out of the locker room. Suddenly, a flash of white metal whizzed around the corner of the station and screeched to a stop near the back wall. Johnny jumped out, grabbing his duffel bag. He was already in uniform, which made Chet smirk as he thought of what was about to happen. Johnny loped across the parking lot, into the apparatus bay where he saw Chet slowly making his way to the kitchen. “Mornin’.”

“Mornin’, Gage,” Chet tossed over his shoulder as he followed his nose towards the kitchen, pretending that the aroma of freshly brewed coffee was beckoning him. As soon as he was sure the paramedic was inside the locker room, he doubled back and stood just outside the door. He listened quietly for the springing sound, knowing what would happen next.

“DAMN YOU, CHET!”

The Irish prankster clutched his midsection in silent laughter, his face turning bright red as he tried his best to keep Johnny from hearing him guffawing outside the door. His sides were aching as he wiped the tears from his face while listening to Johnny cursing and scuffling around in the locker room. 

Johnny rushed out of the door, gold glitter adorning his uniform, face and hair. “I’ll never get this shit off o’ me!”

“Why Johnny, whatever happened to you? You look like a shimmering star hanging among the heavens,” Chet said poetically, obviously mocking the paramedic’s predicament.

“Yea, well, I’m gonna make you see stars when I…”

The tones sounded cutting off Johnny’s threat. He brushed off his uniform as best he could, shaking his hair like a wet dog, then hustled to the squad. When someone’s life or property was at stake, it didn’t matter how many tiny sparkles were stuck to him. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it to the best of his ability.

Mike donned his turnout coat, and climbed into the cab of Big Red. As the bay door rose, he thought about his most recent conversation with Alexia. He did drive a red Ward LaFrance on short runs, but he did NOT frequent truck stops… or prostitutes. Now, he just had to somehow undo the damage he had inadvertently done, convince her that he really was one of the good guys, and that her family desperately wanted her back at home.

E!

 

The call turned out to be a minor garage fire, more smoke damage than anything else. All the way back to the station, Chet giggled to himself. He had watched Johnny sparkling in the morning sunlight, each time the man moved. Although thankfully, his helmet and turnout coat covered most of the remaining glitter. Even so, there were tiny flakes of gold stuck to his cheek bones, tinting his hair, and sticking to his navy blue pants, no matter how many times he brushed them off. There had been a couple of flakes stuck on his lips and between his teeth. Even Roy had to admit that Chet’s joke was a good one.

Johnny got out of the squad, slamming the door angrily behind him. “That stupid little piece o’…”

“C’mon, Johnny… It was just a joke. Don’t take it so seriously,” Roy snickered, watching Johnny moving around like a man with ants in his pants as they exited the squad.

“Oh yea? Well, you ain’t the one lookin’ like the damn tin man!” Johnny shot back at his partner, still seeing metallic flecks floating off of him whenever he moved.

Roy closed his door, grinning at Marco and Mike as the engine was backed into its spot in the apparatus bay. Everyone had their eyes on Johnny as he continued to bounce around, shaking each leg and brushing himself off.

“Junior, I believe the tin man was a silver color, not gold. So, maybe you look more like Glenda, the good witch,” Roy chided, laughing until his own sides were aching.

“Hey, Gage… Is that some new rain dance or somethin’?” Chet continued the verbal sparring. When the prankster had his victim on the ropes, he just couldn’t stop.

“Enough, Chet,” Hank called out, walking around the front of the engine and seeing a trail of glitter shimmering wherever Johnny had walked. He had heard Roy’s comment and decided to continue with the Wizard of Oz theme. “I suggest you follow this, uh, this yellow brick road with a broom and clean up the glitter.”

“Aww, Cap,” he groused.

Hank was fighting with his own silly giggles at the face the shorter man was making. He wanted to laugh at the antics, but Chet had taken things a little too far this time. Hank knew he needed to remind the Phantom that he was the Captain of A-shift, not Chet.

Johnny grinning knowingly at his nemesis, then continued shaking his legs as he headed for the latrine. “Go ahead, munchkin… Follow the yellow brick road,” he said, laughing loudly at his plan for making Chet clean up the latrine for him.

Roy chuckled, walking with Hank back towards the kitchen. “I told him Johnny was going to get him back.”

Chet watched as Johnny deliberately left a trail of glitter across the bay and into the latrine. That’s when it dawned on him what his pigeon was doing. He was making sure that Chet helped him complete the least popular chore around the station.

“Aww, go play with the flyin’ monkeys, Gage,” Chet countered, reaching inside the broom closet for the tools he would need for the job.

“Nu-uh…,” Johnny countered, holding the latrine door open, his lopsided grin shining as brightly as the glitter littering the apparatus bay floor. “Last time I was messin’ around with a monkey, I nearly died. Besides, your sister won’t let me play with her pets,” he joked, knowing Chet wouldn’t have a comeback for that statement.

Marco listened to the friendly banter between the two men as he walked into the dorm. The reference to Chet’s sister made him think of Lexi. In his mind, he kept seeing his baby sister wearing ruby red slippers, tapping her heels together, and softly repeating the words of Dorothy – ‘There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.’

“Please, God,” he prayed in a hushed tone, propping his forearm on the top of the brick dividing wall beside Mike’s bunk. “Please bring her home, soon.”

Mike silently followed his lineman into the dorm, overhearing the older man’s whispered prayer. He clapped his hand on the back of Marco’s neck, seeing the faraway look on his friend’s face. “Soon, Marco. I’m going back out tomorrow night, and I’m going to do my best to get her home.”

Marco let his face fall, grunting his agreement with his friend. “I want to go with you, Mike. I’ve got to be there next time you see her. No matter what… We’re… We’re running out of time, and… And I want to tell her myself.”

“Tell her what?” The engineer questioned, grateful that no one else was around to hear their very private conversation. 

Marco raised his dark eyes up, feeling the deep sense of urgency that his mother had been speaking of for several months. Something told him that if Alexia didn’t come home soon, then she never would. “I want to tell her… Tell her that the past can be forgiven because we… We love her… And that we just want her to come home.”

Mike looked around him just to make sure none of the other guys were within hearing range. He then stepped in front of his lineman. The pain on Marco’s face nearly broke Mike’s heart. His usual quiet personality allowed him to silently support the lineman until Marco was able to say what was on his mind.

“How, Mike? How can anyone lie to and… And hurt her like that? She was just a child then… Still is.”

Mike had no words of comfort for his friend. There was no justification for the actions of those who had harmed Alexia in so many ways. The only consolation he could offer was that she was still alive, so there was still time to convince her to return to her family. “I don’t understand it, either. And I don’t want to. It would put us on their level if we did understand it. But, one thing I do know; it’s not too late, not yet.”

“That’s why I’ve got to be there. She’s got to know that what that psychotic bastard has told her has been nothing but rotten lies; he’s brainwashed her.”

Mike hesitated, not sure that Marco’s request was a good idea. He knew that Lexi wouldn’t knowingly agree to meet with her older brother, but he also knew that she had to be rescued sooner rather than later. “I don’t know, Marco.”

Marco exhaled loudly. He didn’t want to put this off any longer. “Come on, Mike. She’s my sister. I’ve got to be there for her.”

Mike didn’t like the idea, but he couldn’t argue with Marco’s reasoning. “Look, you take all this information to Lieutenant Crockett, then we’ll go looking for her together.” He knew that what Marco was saying was true. The clock was ticking for Alexia Lopez, and time was NOT on their side.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has left comments for me, both registered users and guests. I appreciate your support and comments/concerns. We’re getting much closer to the end of this story. However, be forewarned that this chapter contains extreme language and violence, but I felt that I needed to make it as realistic as I could while still keeping it at the ‘Teen’ rating. 

Chapter 14

 

The next morning, Johnny peeled open his eyes along with the other members of the crew when the wake-up tones sounded. He swung his legs over the edge of the bunk, slipping into his boots and bunker pants with practiced perfection. He stepped between the beds, following the line of similarly clad men, most heading to the kitchen while a couple made their way to the latrine.

Johnny rubbed his eyes, grimacing in front of the mirror. “Argh, damn it,” he grumbled, leaning against a sink, stretching his left eye open wider than was normal. A gold flake of glitter was stuck in his lower eyelid irritating his eyeball. “One of these days…,” he muttered, using the pad of his index finger to remove the offending flake.

Marco flushed the toilet, stepping out of the stall to wash his hands. He had heard Johnny’s grumbling, and saw him leaning close to the mirror. “One of these days, what?”

Johnny looked at the mustached man in the mirror, blinking his eyes rapidly to force the tears to remoisten the place where he had touched his eyeball. “One of these days, I’m gonna really hurt Chester B.” 

“Take a number and get in line,” Marco stated flatly, turning on the water to wash his hands. “He annoys a lot of people, you know?”

Johnny had to snicker at the seriousness on Marco’s face. “Yea, I know.” 

“I can’t believe he did such a stupid thing,” Marco mused.

“Yea, well, we are talkin’ about Chet,” Johnny grimaced. “At least he didn’t have it set up to slam me right in the face like his water bombs do.”

“Huh?”

Johnny retrieved his toothbrush and toothpaste from his locker. “He had it aimin’ up so the flakes would fall like snow or somethin’.” When he turned around, he saw the flat affect on the lineman’s face as he repeatedly soaped and rinsed his hands. He grinned nervously. “Exactly what’d you do in there?” He asked, nodding toward the stall. When he got no response, he tried again. “Hey, you okay?”

Dark eyes met each other briefly in the mirror. Marco quickly turned off the water, drying his hands with his back turned to the curious paramedic. “Yes, I’m fine, John. Just got a lot on my mind,” he said, heading out the door.

Johnny squeezed toothpaste on his toothbrush then wet it beneath the running water. “Seems to be an epidemic around here lately.”

E!

By the time Johnny lumbered into the kitchen heading for the coffee pot, Marco was already sitting at the table nursing a steaming cup of java. Mike returned from raising the flag, the morning paper tucked neatly beneath his arm as he walked over to the table. 

“Wanna cup o’ coffee, Mike?”

“Yea, that’d be great, Johnny,” the engineer answered, unfolding the newspaper.

“Here’s another one, Kelly,” Hank said, pointing to a spot on the floor in front of the television set. 

“Aarrrgh!” The aggravated Irishman fussed, bending over with a wet paper towel to swipe up the gold flake of glitter.

Johnny snickered as he passed Mike his cup of coffee. “This is the best prank the Phantom has ever pulled.”

“It’s backfired the most,” Roy spoke up, cracking eggs into a bowl. “Anybody else want scrambled eggs?”

“I do, DeSoto,” Chet called out, kneeling down to retrieve another sparkling speck near the chalkboard.

“You want ‘em with a little glitter on the side?” Johnny grinned.

“Oh, Ha-Ha, Gage!”

“Chet…”

“Yes, sir?” He responded, seeing his superior standing beside the couch, pointing down at a lounging Henry.

“Oh no, on Henry, too?”

“Yep,” Hank responded. “He’s practically shimmering when he wags his tail.”

Again, Johnny snickered, easing his coffee cup away from his face, thankful Captain Stanley hadn’t voiced his observation while Johnny had a mouthful of coffee to spew. “Lookin’ like he should be hangin’ like a star among the heavens,” he goaded, mimicking Chet’s own comment to him the previous day. “You know how dogs like to groom themselves. He prob’bly swallowed some. You may wanna lift his tail, and wipe his…”

“Shut up, Gage!” Hank, Mike, and Roy spoke up in unison.

The entire group broke out into uncontrolled laughter, with the exception of one man. Marco smiled, but it never made it to his dark eyes. His mind was busy preparing for the upcoming meeting with Lieutenant Ronald Crockett.

E!

Alexia stepped out of the shower, her sore body aching from misuse. She toweled herself off, pulled on a t-shirt and shorts then headed for her bed. She was beyond exhausted. She began towel-drying her hair as she entered the bedroom she shared with Brianna, stopping at the sound of soft sobs coming from Brianna’s bed.

“Bri? Bri, what’s wrong?”

The crying woman rolled over to face her roommate, saddened by the gasp she heard when Alexia saw her.

Alexia’s hand went to her mouth as she looked upon a face she barely recognized. The battered woman tried to look at Alexia, but her right eye was swollen completely shut; the purple-red skin swollen tightly around the protruding orb. Her lip was puffy, bruised, and crusted with bits of dried blood. “Ohmygod, Bri… W-who did this to you?”

“I-I dunno,” she whimpered. “I ne’er s-seen him ‘fore. He jus’… He said he liked i’ rough, wan’ed me ‘o resis’,” she spoke softly, her speech hampered by the swollen lip. “I-I tried to do wha’ he wan’ed, bu’ he… He kep’… Hi’ing me, pullin’ my hair, an’… He hur’ me so bad,” she whimpered, laying her head on Alexia’s knees as she sobbed.

“Damn him! I’ll go to the payphone and call for an ambulance.”

“Noooo,” Brianna cried. “No, I-I can’ go ‘o da hos-hospi’al,” she sniffled, her breath hitching. “I can’ s’and…da way dey look a’ me, I… I’ll be ‘kay.” 

“Let me at least get you some ice,” Alexia said, running a soothing hand across Brianna’s forehead to remove her sweat-matted bangs from her swollen eyes. “You’ve got a fever, too. I’ll get you some aspirin.” She slowly stood up, walking to their tiny kitchenette. She removed an old bag of peas, one of the few items in the freezer, and brought it back to the battered woman. “Here, we’ve gotten a lot of use out of this bag,” she said, pressing it across the most swollen area of Brianna’s face. “I’ll be right back with some water and aspirin.”

Brianna flinched as the cold bag was conformed to her injured face from her jawline to her temple. Alexia was right, both of them had used this same bag when they had come home after particularly rough nights. She heard Alexia running water into a glass and tapping out a couple of aspirin. The coldness was painful, but was nothing compared to the throbbing in her head. She felt the edge of the bed sink in as Alexia sat down beside her.

“Okay, can you sit up for me?”

Brianna did as requested, pushing herself up on weak, trembling arms. She opened her mouth for a sip of water then added the bitter white pills, washing them down with the remainder of the cooling liquid. She passed the glass back to Alexia, then snuggled back down under the covers. “Dank you, Lex.”

“Hey, no problem. I’m so sorry this happened. It’s been a while,” she said, remembering the last time Brianna had been beaten by a john.

“Yea… Worse dis ‘ime,” she sniffled. “I-I’m done, Lex. I can’ do dis no more.”  
Alexia assumed her roommate was thinking of killing herself again. “I know why you feel that way, but please don’t do it. Please don’t hurt yourself.”

“I’ not gonna kill m’self. Bu’, I… I gotta ge’ away. I seen a pos’er on a ligh’ pole las’ nigh’. For a p’ace called Da Wellhouse*. Hada phone num’er on it. Said ‘o call for he’p ‘o ge’ ou’.”

“To get out of what?”

Brianna reached up, removing the frozen peas from her face. “Dis,” she said, pointing to her battered face. “Hookin’, Lex. Pros’itution.”

Alexia listened to the glimmer of hope Brianna seemed to be feeling. “Aren’t you afraid? What if it’s a set up? What if you end up in something worse?” She asked, returning the bag of peas to her friend’s face.

“Wha’ can be worse dan dis?” She asked, pointing at her abused face. “I’ gotta t’y.”

“I want out, too. But… I can’t. I can’t let him get to my family. I’d rather…,” Alexia stopped, turning the bag of peas over so the colder side was against Brianna’s face. She never finished her sentence, because she knew there was only one way out of her situation… Her own demise.

“If it wor’s, I’ come ‘ack for you,” Brianna spoke softly. “I won’ forge’ you, Lex. I s’ear, I’ come ‘ack.”

“No… Don’t you ever come back… Not for me, not for anybody.” She brushed Brianna’s dark hair once more. “I hope it works, Bri. I really do. Now, try to get some sleep.”

It only took a couple of minutes for Brianna’s breathing to grow deep and steady, and Alexia knew she had somehow managed to fall asleep. She felt the backs of her own eyes beginning to sting as she stood up heading for her bed on the other side of the room. She had to get some rest, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the poster Brianna had mentioned. Was there really someone out there trying to help women like them? Did someone actually care? The name Brianna had mentioned was The Wellhouse*. Alexia’s Catholic upbringing began to surface and she immediately thought about the Biblical woman at the well who was accused of sexual sins, and yet, Jesus had intervened on her behalf. Alexia wept silently into her pillow wondering if perhaps this was a sign from God. Did He still remember her? Did it mean that there was hope and forgiveness for someone like her, too?

E!

Lieutenant Ron Crockett sat behind his desk, listening to the story Marco was relaying to him. Unfortunately, it was sounding all too familiar. He steepled his hands in front of his mouth as Marco continued in a raspy voice. When the fireman finished, Lieutenant Crockett leaned forward, elbows on his desk.

“Listen, Marco. I know this is difficult for you and your family. I appreciate you coming in here. This is the first time I’ve heard of buying identifications, but it makes perfect sense. I’ve heard of illegals going through cemeteries and assuming the identities of deceased people, but this…,” he sighed, leaning back in his seat. “This is definitely a matter for the Feds.”

“Maldito,” Marco cursed. “You mean, the FBI has to get involved?”

“That’s right. It’s a crime occurring across state-lines,” he explained. “I’ll make the call. I’ll also put out a BOLO for your sister.”

“BOLO?”

“It means, be on the lookout. What was her alias again?”

Marco pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh yes,” he mumbled; he knew what BOLO meant, but was struggling to make sense of everything the detective was saying. “Um, Alexandra LeRoux.” He watched as the detective took down the notes. 

Ron looked back up at the man sitting across from him. “I won’t lie to you, Marco. It won’t be easy to get her out of this, but I promise you that I’ll do everything within my power to bring this Ricardo fellow to justice, and more importantly, to bring your sister home.”

“Um, what about… Lexi said that he has made threats against the rest of us, her family, if she leaves. Do… Do you think he’ll make good on these threats?”

Lieutenant Crockett sighed softly. “That’s really hard to say. These guys use threats to keep their girls loyal to them. The threats to the girls are real, as for the families, it’s doubtful.”

“But you can’t rule it out?”

Ron shook his head slowly. “Unfortunately no. There’s always that possibility. But, harming your family isn’t likely to be a high priority for him. These types have lots of women working for them. They use a variety of means to secure their loyalty, from drug dependence to physical violence, to threats of harm to family members, and especially deportation for those who are here illegally.” He looked at Marco with a renewed seriousness on his face. “Harming your family would be a very risky move for this Ricardo fella. In my opinion, the risks wouldn’t outweigh the benefits. These threats to her family will take a huge psychological toll on her, keep her doing his bidding without him actually having to inflict any harm on your family.”

“So then, what should I do? My Mama and nephew live there. I’ve been staying there for a few weeks now, but they’re alone when I’m away.”

“Just be vigilant about locking doors and windows. Make sure your mother doesn’t go out after dark. Be aware of unusual vehicles or activities along the street. Marco, I don’t want to downplay this at all, but the risk is really to Alexia if she leaves. Not so much to your family. I will step up patrols in your neighborhood. Usually, all it takes is more squad cars making an appearance to discourage any threatening activities like what you’ve described.”

Marco stood up, extending his hand across the desk. Lieutenant Crockett did the same, gripping the hand of the man he had known and respected for a couple of years.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“You’re welcome. Take care, man,” he offered, ushering Marco to the door. “Let me know if you find out anything else. I’ll do the same.”

Marco nodded in gratitude as he left the office. The ordeal had not been as difficult as he had imagined. Now, he had to get in touch with Mike and make their plans for the coming night.

E!

Mike finished washing up the coffee cup he had left in the sink the previous morning. He liked to keep a tidy residence. The activity also helped him think about his strategy for correcting his mistake with Lexi on his last outing with her. He still didn’t know what he had said or done to frighten her. He dried the cup, returning it to its rightful place in his cabinet. He turned off the light and decided to lay down for a little while. Even though the night had been quiet at the station, he knew he would be out late tonight. With any luck, this would be the night he and Marco would bring her home. 

He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep when a knock woke him up. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he walked towards his front door. He opened it up, squinting into the sunlight. “Marco?”

“I’m sorry… I woke you up, didn’t I?”

“It’s okay,” he said, stepping aside. “Come on in.”

“Thanks. I, uh, I talked to Crockett,” the lineman said, taking a seat on Mike’s sofa. “He said he’s got to get the FBI involved.”

“Damn,” Mike cursed, uncharacteristically. 

“That’s what I said.”

“I never thought about that,” Mike mused.

“Me neither,” said the lineman, “But it’s a multi-state crime.”

Mike sat still for a moment, considering the implications for Alexia. He didn’t like to think about the FBI getting involved, but there was no going back now. “Did he say anything else?”

Marco scrubbed his face with his open palm. He couldn’t hide his worry, but he also felt like they were making progress. “Yes… He put out a BOLO for her. I gave him her alias. He’s going to increase the presence of patrol cars in Mama’s neighborhood, but he doesn’t think Ricardo will really do anything to us. He thinks it’s just… Psychological torture.”

Mike nodded his head. “Okay, that’s good. I mean, not the psychological torture part, but about the increase in patrols and stuff.” He watched as Marco slowly nodded in agreement, staring down at the gold shag carpeting. “We’re close, Marco.”

“I hope so, Mike,” the older man sighed. “I sure hope so. I don’t know how much more my family and I can handle.”

E!

Nightfall found Alexia preparing for another work shift. She dressed in her usual attire, peeking out the window to see if Mike’s truck was outside. She had decided to ask him if he knew anything about The Wellhouse. She had thought about the things he had said and his reaction to her sexual advance, and she wondered if maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t out to hurt her. Maybe he wasn’t a new recruiter or a vice cop. Maybe, he really was one of the good guys. She stared at the empty parking spots on the street and her heart sank. She didn’t have long before she had to go out, and he still wasn’t there.

Mike and Marco rode in silence through the dilapidated neighborhood. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Marco nodded, steeling himself for the task ahead. “I don’t know, but it’s got to be done. Even though I’ve been out looking for her many times, I’m just not sure I’m ready to see her, uh, working, you know?”

“Yea,” Mike sighed, slowing down as he approached an intersection. “Oh no! Not again!”

“What?” Marco said, looking up and seeing what had caused Mike’s sudden reaction. “There’s a phone booth. Call it in, Mike. I’ll go see what I can do.”

Ahead, an abandoned building was smoldering, tendrils of black smoke snaking out of the broken windows and various other cracks in the exterior façade of the old structure. The two firemen jumped into action, Mike fishing into his pants pocket for a dime while Marco surveyed the building. It was dangerously close to an old house. Marco couldn’t tell if anyone lived there or not, but his training kicked into gear. He loped up the steps, pounding on the front door. 

“Hello? Fire Department! Anyone here?” 

After assuring himself that no one was in immediate danger, he returned to the building. He had nothing with which to fight the fire. Feeling helpless, he stood at a safe distance and waited for Mike to rejoin him.

“They’re on the way,” Mike stated with a huff.

“Nobody around that I could find,” Marco responded. “I hate feeling so useless.”

“Yea, I know what you mean.” Mike turned his head in the direction of the approaching sirens. He watched as the engineer eased to a slow crawl near a hydrant. A lineman jumped into action as other trucks arrived. Mike watched the familiar scene, looking for a white striped helmet. 

“I’ll be right back. Then we’ll go find Lexi,” he said to his own lineman before walking over to the Captain.

Marco nodded, watching as the tall, thin engineer stepped over to the place where the captain was standing giving orders. “Hi, I’m the one who called it in. My buddy and I saw it as we were driving by. We’ve already checked that house over there,” Mike said, pointing to the nearest building. “No one’s there; not sure if it’s a current residence or not.”

The unknown captain nodded his appreciation. “Thank you. I appreciate the call.” He turned back to watch his men in action, something niggling in the back of his mind. 

Mike returned to Marco, seeing the anxiousness in the older man’s eyes. “I think we can go now.”

Marco hummed a response and turned to get into Mike’s pick-up. The busy fire captain turned to ask a few questions of Mike, but saw the man getting into his truck and driving off. He quickly jotted down the tag number, just in case he needed to contact the man later on. 

E!

Alexia slipped the purse across her sore bosom, then locked the door as she left the dingy apartment. Brianna was still resting and she didn’t want to disturb the injured woman’s sleep. She stepped out of the building, looking in both directions for the pick-up truck. When she didn’t see it, she heaved a desperate sigh before turning and walking down the street. She was working the south part of her area tonight. As she stepped slowly down the street, she heard the usual rash of catcalls, saw the glares from some of the older women. She heard sirens in the distance, horns honking, and people shouting. All the usual sounds of her neighborhood. She meandered past the bus stop, refusing to look at the faces staring at her from the small windows of the city bus. She knew what they were thinking, what everyone thought of her. Long ago she had given up trying to convince herself that she wasn’t like the other girls walking the streets. She had finally accepted that she was exactly like them. Street trash, subhuman, a nobody… The descriptions kept coursing through her mind as she felt someone grab her elbow. She turned around, seeing a wicked grin on an older man’s face. He had just stepped off the city bus, his attire telling her that he had money, and his eyes letting her know how he wanted to spend it.

Mike and Marco quickly drove down the street heading for the apartment building Mike knew well. He weaved in and out of traffic, switching lanes to pass by a city bus that was parked at a bus stop. Neither man had any idea that the person they were searching for was hidden from their view, negotiating a deal on the other side of that bus.

After Alexia had satisfied her first customer of the night, she began walking down the street heading for a different area, one she hadn’t worked in a long time. Up ahead, she noticed red flashing lights, and men in turnout coats rolling up hose. She made a sudden left turn, walking around behind the large rumbling engine, out of the line of sight of the busy firemen. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if perhaps one of the men might be her oldest brother. She wanted to see him again, even if he didn’t know she was watching. She needed to know that he was okay. She glanced at the numbers on the doors of the trucks, not seeing the one marked with the number ’51.’ She peered around the front of the engine she was hiding behind in order to get a closer look at the squad. Again, she didn’t see the number that she knew represented the station where Marco worked. But, what she did see made her entire world tilt. Along the front of the engine, in large silver-toned letters, were the words ‘Ward LaFrance.’ Michael’s words to her assaulted her memory. He insisted on her drinking plenty of fluids when they were together. He knew exactly what to do at the gas station fire the night they first met. And then the most damning evidence was staring her in the face. He had once driven a Crown, but now he drove a red Ward LaFrance, only on short runs. She felt her legs growing weak and had a sense of foreboding, as if the emergency vehicles were going to run her over. She staggered away from the scene, leaning against the cement wall to her left for stability. “Ohmygod,” she gasped, gagging with the realization of who Michael really was. “Oh Michael… You’re a fireman, too!” 

Hours passed as Mike and Marco waited impatiently along the street outside of her apartment building. At times they talked about how they would convince her to return to her childhood home, and at other times, they plotted her kidnapping, should the latter become necessary. They waited until the early morning hours before giving up and heading home, both men extremely disappointed. This would not be the rescue they had hoped it would be. 

“I’m sorry, Marco. I don’t always see her,” Mike said, returning Marco to the Lopez residence.

“It’s okay. You’ve already done so much for us. I… I can’t ever thank you enough.” Marco reached for the door handle trying to hide his disappointment.

“We’ll try again. Soon,” Mike offered.

Marco gave him a somber smile and an affirmative nod. “See you on shift, Amigo.”

E!

Lieutenant Crockett kept his word. Over the next couple of weeks, Marco noticed an increase in the number of patrol cars that drove by his mother’s residence. He contacted the detective a couple of times for updates, and was told that FBI agents were investigating the allegations of identity fraud both in Los Angeles and in Baton Rouge. Marco and Mike made two additional trips to the building where Alexia lived, but didn’t see her either time. Mike was growing worried that he had made a monumental mistake with her and she might never speak to him again. Marco continued to put up a good front for his family and his friends, but inside he felt as if he were dying. Mike making contact with her had renewed his faith in God, but now, he wasn’t so sure. Once again, he felt as if his prayers were bouncing off the ceiling and returning to him unheard by God.

Across town, Alexia opened the door to her darkened apartment, expecting her roommate to be there. When she walked inside, she found that she was alone. All of Brianna’s meager possessions were gone. Assuming that Brianna had made contact with someone at The Wellhouse, she gave a weary half smile to the empty twin bed where her roommate at slept. The day dragged on unmercifully as she tried to get a little rest. Several times, she rolled over in her bed, only to be reminded of her solitary world by the empty mattress across the tiny room. “Oh, Bri. I hope you found the safe place you were looking for,” she mumbled. 

By mid-afternoon, she was awaken by a man and woman screaming at each other across the hallway. The sound of shattering glass brought back too many painful memories for her, and she cowered beneath her blanket, covering her ears with her hands. Silent tears escaped her burning eyes until the angry shouts subsided with what sounded like a face slap. Once again, she fell into a fitful slumber, finding no more peacefulness in her dream world than the one in which she lived during her waking hours. 

Finally, when the shadows became elongated along the floor, she forced herself out of bed and into the bathroom. She showered, brushed her teeth, and began her preparations for another work night. Her make-up was applied too thickly, her clothes leaving too much of her thin body exposed, and her hair swept up into a ponytail. She donned the large hoop earrings she had worn on so many nights, then turned off the light in the bathroom. She made her way to the small sink, pulling out a plastic tumbler from the nearly barren cupboards and filled it with water. She sat down to a bowl of chicken noodle soup and water, remembering how Mike had told her repeatedly to drink plenty of water so that she would stay hydrated. Now that she knew his profession, she understood why he would be concerned with her fluid intake. Firefighters were well aware of the dangers of dehydration. 

Suddenly, her apartment door swung open and slammed against the wall. She jumped up from her small table, her chair crashing against the floor. There, standing in the doorway was the image she most feared. 

“R-Ricardo, w-what’s wrong?” She asked in a trembling voice, seeing the key to her apartment being twirled around his index finger. 

He sauntered inside, slamming the door closed behind him. “What the fuck have you done, you little bitch-whore?” He snarled out his question, his nostrils flaring in anger with each inhalation.

She stepped slowly away from him, her back pressing against the wall. “N-nothing… Here,” she reached into the drawer in the kitchen where she and Brianna had always kept the money they owed him. She pulled out the money she had placed in the jar when she returned home early that morning. “See… I’ve got your money here, right here,” she stammered, shoving the money at him.

Ricardo snatched the bills from her hands, stuffing them inside his pocket as he pulled out an instrument she knew too well.

“No… Ohmygod, please, Ricardo. Please don’t do it!” She begged, having been the recipient of angry blows from his pimp stick once before. She knew the pain inflicted by the wire coat hanger attached to a piece of broom handle. The additional length of the eighteen inches of broom handle gave more power to each swing, resulting in the wire digging deeply into the skin of the recipient. “Please?” She whimpered, cowering into a corner of the room.

“Shut up your sniveling!”

“S-sorry… Did you h-hurt her, too?”

“Who?”

“B-Bri…”

Ricardo’s lips curled, grimacing at her. “Humph, Brianna Olivier is dead,” he spat out.

Alexia whimpered, thinking of her friend, unable to look at the man standing over her. Obviously, he had gotten to Brianna before he found Alexia.

Ricardo kept glaring at her, unable to decide what to do to punish her. “Someone called the fucking FBI. Someone told them I was buying ID’s from Virgie in Baton Rouge,” he continued using his menacing voice as he slowly made his way over to the stove. He reached for the knob, turning on the gas appliance until a blue flame flickered on one of the eyes. “Now,” he continued, placing the metal part of his home-made weapon into the hot fire ring. “Who could’ve done that, hmm?”

“I-I don’t know. Not me, I swear. Oh god, Ric, please don’t do this. Not again, please?” Her pitiful high pitched cries continued as she ducked into the corner, covering as much of her body as she could with her hands as she slid down the wooden wall. She knew what was coming, had felt the unbearable pain before, and had scars on her back and upper thighs as evidence. There was no escape. He had backed her into a corner, and she could hear his footsteps coming closer. Defending herself was useless, only serving to fuel his rage. All she could do was endure his wrath, until he tired of the sadistic game, or… Or he killed her. 

He waited for the metal part of his weapon to begin to glow in the flame. “Virgie was called into a meeting with a special agent. Asked her a bunch of questions, particularly about you, Peggy, and Brianna.” He reached back for the molten metal on the wooden stick. “Now, at least two of them are dead. Will you be next?” Gripping the pimp stick in his tightening fist, he raised it above his head. “You called them!” He yelled, slicing the air as well as her flesh as his first swing hit his target.

She awoke with the sound of her apartment door slamming closed again, the sound of Ricardo’s exodus. Her entire body was screaming in pain. Each time she moved, she felt the burning sensation of the stripes she had sustained. Her shirt was torn, and her legs were bleeding. She felt a stinging area around her neck. She ran trembling fingers from her cheekbones along her jawline and down to her breasts, feeling the welts along the left side of her face and throat. Her tears joined forces with her sweat, forming rivulets of torturing salt water coursing down her upper body aggravating the broken skin. 

Slowly, she raised herself up to a sitting position, using the curtains as leverage. Dizzy with pain, she sat still for a moment, taking deep inhalations to steady herself. Several long moments later, she pulled again on the curtains, her arms burning from misuse and abuse. She heard the tearing sound as the weight of her body tore a hole in the dingy old material. She grabbed the window casing, pulling herself higher until she made it to a standing position. Somehow, she found the energy to open the window just enough to feel the cooling breeze blowing across her burning battered body. She closed her eyes to the cooling relief. When she opened them once more, she saw a sight that brought fresh tears to her eyes. A familiar pick-up truck pulled into its usual parking spot just outside of her building.

“Michael?” She gasped weakly, darkness crowding her vision from all directions. “Mich-ael, p’ease…,” she whispered, unable to stop the darkness from consuming her completely. “Hel’… me…” Her body crumpled into a heap in front of the oven, unaware of the blue flame Ricardo had left burning on the stove above her being teased by the torn curtain flapping in the breeze.

E!

A/N: The Wellhouse is a real agency located in Birmingham, Alabama. The founder was once a sex worker who was trafficked as a teenager at Truck Stops along the I-20 Corridor, which is the most heavily trafficked roadway in the country. She has rescued women of all ages and provided them with a new lease on life. She is also well-known by the FBI. I will not use her real name in this story as I do not have her permission. However, if you are interested in learning more or making a donation to The Wellhouse, please google The Wellhouse and/or search for her videos on Youtube.


	15. chapter 15

Chapter 15

 

Marco hung up the phone, silently cursing his luck. He had been trying to get in touch with both Mike and Lieutenant Crockett for the last several hours, but neither man was answering his telephone. He looked at the clock in his mother’s kitchen. It was already eight o’clock so he understood why the detective wasn’t in his office. Marco blew out his breath, running his fingers over his mustache. Would Mike go out looking for Lexi again so soon? 

Maria stood in the kitchen doorway watching the frustration as it found residence on Marco’s handsome face. “What’s troubling you, son?” she asked, leaning against the back of a chair at her kitchen table. She could always tell when something was bothering Marco, even when he did his best to hide it.

“Nothing, Mama. I’m just trying to talk to Stoker and he’s not answering his telephone.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but at least it wasn’t a lie.

“Sit down, Marco,” she requested, taking a seat and patting the seat of the chair beside her. “It’s Lexi, isn’t it?” 

Marco rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, sitting down as his mother had requested. “Yes, Mama. I’m just so… I’m so scared for her.”

“Mike has made a lot of progress, hasn’t he?”

“Yes, but…,” Marco looked over at his mother, noticing how much she had aged in the last five years. “But, she still isn’t home.”

Maria reached out, placing her smaller wrinkling hand around her son’s larger one. “Marco, I’ll never give up on her, but you do understand that…”

“Don’t say it, Mama,” he protested, raising his hand with his palm facing her, his voice a strangled whisper. “Don’t say that she might not come home alive, because… I can’t accept that.” He stood up, heading for the front porch. He liked the solitude he often found there in the early evening hours. “I’m going to sit outside for a few minutes. I might ride over to Mike’s place, but don’t worry. I won’t be gone too long. Good night, Mama. I love you,” he said, kissing his mother on the cheek.

“I love you, too.” Maria watched as her son walked away, scrubbing his face with his hands. She felt a heaviness in her heart that only comes from a mother’s love. She felt helpless to assist her children when they needed her most, and somehow she knew that tonight would be the biggest test of her faith in her entire 58 years. And so, she did the only thing she knew to do, the thing she had done more in the last five years than all her other years combined. She made her way down the hallway to her bedroom and closed the door. As she sat on the edge of her bed, she pulled open the top drawer of her nightstand. There, opening the black velvet-covered box, she withdrew the item she had most hoped to hand down to her only daughter. The rosary she held in her hands had belonged to her grandmother, a sterling silver crucifix with six large wooden beads carved into delicate roses, and fifty-three milky-white pearls. She bowed her head, her fingers trembling as she made the sign of the cross, then began praying. On this night, as on so many others, she was seeking divine intervention on behalf of all of her children, especially her oldest and her youngest.

E!

Ronald Crockett sat in his unmarked car behind the apartment complex. He double checked the address Mike Stoker had given him during their telephone call earlier in the day. A quick glimpse at the street sign proved that he was in the right location. He kept watching in his rearview mirror until he saw Mike’s pick-up truck pass by him and pull to a stop in a parking spot on the northwest corner of the building. All they had to do was wait for Alexia to come out of her apartment and approach Mike’s vehicle. Mike would explain to her that his friend - with the prostitute relative - wanted to talk to her. Ron would then follow them to the back of the abandoned warehouse where the two men would work with her to devise a plan for her escape. Mike knew that even though he loathed a lie, Alexia had to believe that Ron was the friend Mike had told her about previously. There was no way he could tell her that her own brother was actually the man to whom he had been referring.

Suddenly, Mike jumped out of his truck, waving at Ron to follow him. Ron stepped out of his car, unsnapping the holster strap that kept his service revolver secure at his side, just in case he needed to withdraw it quickly. He had no idea what Mike was urgently calling him to. He caught up with the engineer at the front entrance of the building.

“Call the fire department. I can see flames in the window of Alexia’s apartment,” Mike explained, pulling open the door. 

There were no fire alarms in the building, nor did he see any fire extinguishers on the bottom floor. Mentally, he cursed the landlord for his code violations, but continued on with the task at hand. He knocked on the first apartment he saw, yelling out to the occupants. “Fire Department! Get out of the building!” 

A young man with blood shot eyes opened the door. He saw Mike knocking on the second apartment. “Hey… What the hell’s goin’ on?”

“Fire on the second floor… Get everyone out down here,” Mike yelled at the stunned young man, not waiting to see if he would do as he had been instructed. 

Mike took the stairs two at a time, passing by the rush of occupants who were egressing from the building. He could only assume they had been alerted by his earlier shouts. He quickly ran straight for the apartment he knew to be Alexia’s. There was no response to his persistent knocks on the locked door of Apartment 2A. He then did something he hadn’t done since becoming an engineer, he planted a heavy kick beside the doorknob, breaching the lock. Smoke was quickly filling up the apartment. Mike inhaled a deep breath from the air in the hallway then ran towards the burning curtains. He immediately turned off the gas burner on the stove, seeing Alexia curled on the floor at his feet. He scooped her up, rushing for the stairs to get her out of the building, rushing past Ron on the stairway.

“Make sure everyone’s out. I’ve got her,” he said, referring to the unconscious woman cradled in his arms.

Ron coughed as he moved from one apartment to another, ensuring everyone had evacuated before he exited. He saw a group huddled together on the opposite side of the street and assumed they were displaced residents. Then he saw Mike leaning over the young woman he had lain on the sidewalk beside his truck. 

“Come on, Lexi. Wake up for me,” Mike pleaded with the unconscious girl, checking for a pulse and respirations. He could tell she was seriously injured, but tapped her on her shoulders trying to get some response. He looked up when he heard sirens and saw the detective jogging over to him. His worried blue eyes locked on the dark figure who knelt down opposite him beside Alexia. “It’s her. She’s hurt bad, Ron.”

Lieutenant Crockett stood up, waving the approaching squad over to the place where the injured girl lay. “Gotta victim over here,” he called out to the two men who exited the vehicle. “Back up, Mike. Let’em take care of her.” He pulled Mike away from Alexia, allowing the paramedics to begin their assessment and treatment. “Where will she be taken?” 

“St. Francis,” one man said, opening up the orange biophone and screwing in the antenna. 

“C’mon, Mike. Let’s head on over there. I need to be there before she arrives.”

Mike ran a hand through his brown hair, leaving a tuft sticking up just above his ear. “I-I need to go get Marco. They need to know,” he said, watching as an oxygen mask was applied to her bruised face, and an IV established in her left forearm. He thought of how these two men were working together in tandem, so much like Gage and DeSoto. He looked around the surreal scene. He should be working the pumps, not standing by as a witness. He turned when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s go, Stoker.”

Mike looked back down at Alexia, remembering how she had backed away from him the last time he saw her. Now, she lay unconscious on the sidewalk, her apartment building going up in flames, and mysterious injuries covering large areas of her body. He felt his stomach lurch, and he had to press his fist against his mouth to stop himself from vomiting. 

“I-I’m going to get Marco. I’ll meet you at… St. Francis?” He questioned the detective, unsure if he had heard correctly.

“Yes… You okay to drive?” The detective asked, seeing how upset Mike seemed to be.

“Yea… Yea, I’ll be okay,” he said reaching for his door handle just as a Mayfair ambulance approached the scene.

Down the street, Ricardo was standing near the group of gawking on-lookers. He was close enough to see that his victim was being treated by paramedics. He saw her head move slightly from side to side as she coughed into the oxygen mask. He slipped into his car, prepared to follow the ambulance to the hospital. It wouldn’t be the first time he had successfully portrayed the upset boyfriend of a woman who had been victimized by an unknown assailant. He smiled wickedly to himself as he pulled into traffic a few car lengths behind the ambulance, preparing to take on the persona he used for these events, and feeling certain that she now understood the seriousness of her transgression against him.

As the ambulance drove away, Detective Crockett called in his plan to dispatch. As soon as he finished relaying his message, the radio began to squawk. “Negative. St. Francis just announced they’re currently on diversion.”

“Shit,” he cursed, slamming the microphone back into its holder. He knew the squad and ambulance would be redirected to another hospital, and he could follow the ambulance to the correct one, but Mike wouldn’t know where she had been taken. Figuring Mike and Marco would make it to the correct hospital eventually, he decided to follow the ambulance. They were only going to get one chance to get this right, and he couldn’t let anything get in the way, not even Alexia’s own brother.

E!

Mike didn’t remember the drive, but suddenly, he found himself parked in the driveway of the home of Maria Lopez. Marco was walking down the steps headed towards him, and Mike rolled down his window. “C’mon, Marco. Alexia’s at St. Francis. I’ll drive you.”

“What?” The shocked man questioned.

“I’ll explain it on the way over; just get in, alright?”

Marco did as Mike requested, and together they headed across town to the hospital. Along the way, Mike explained everything that had happened, leaving out the part about Alexia’s strange injuries. They were not consistent with injuries normally sustained in a fire, but Mike preferred to let the doctor explain it all to Marco. In fact, he was anxious to hear about them himself. He turned into the emergency entrance of St. Francis Hospital, seeing his friend repeatedly rubbing his eyes. Mike felt his own eyes misting over as the two of them exited his vehicle and rushed inside the glass doors.

Mike looked around, not seeing the detective anywhere in the over-crowded corridor. “Marco, why don’t you wait here while I find out where they took her?”

It took nearly half an hour before Mike was told that the patient he was looking for had not been brought to St. Francis. They were currently on diversion due to a bus accident with multiple critical injuries. They had taken as many patients as they could appropriately treat, and had then gone on diversion for any other emergencies. It took another twenty minutes before a sweet red-haired nurse informed him that she had tracked down Alexandra LeRoux, and that she had been taken to Rampart General Hospital. He pressed his lips together tightly, knowing that Marco would be upset by the turn of events. 

Meanwhile, Marco didn’t make a sound as he mentally chastised himself for not letting his mother know about Lexi before he climbed into Mike’s pick-up and left. The least he could have done was notify her that he was heading to St. Francis Hospital to check on Lexi. He knew she couldn’t leave Antonio alone, and Marco didn’t want the little boy to meet his mother for the first time in a hospital bed. His introduction to her needed to be some place warm and friendly, not cold and sterile. He debated whether or not to call home, unsure if the news he had to share would make his mother upset or overjoyed. Deciding that he really didn’t know anything yet, he leaned back against the olive-green padding on his chair and waited for what seemed like an eternity. Several times he looked around the waiting area, and always Mike was standing in line or talking to a nurse. Finally, he saw his friend walking back to the place where he sat, and the look on his face made Marco nearly vomit.

“I’m sorry, Marco. This place is on diversion so she’s been taken to Rampart.”

“Rampart?”

“Yes,” Mike affirmed, knowing that Marco would have preferred that his sister be treated by physicians and nurses who didn’t know him. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Marco merely nodded. He had been trying to keep his pride in check when it came to his sister, but there was still a part of him that was ashamed of what she was doing. Yet, she was his sister. And so, he stood up a little straighter, lifting his chin up. Pride be damned, he was about to see his sister again, and he no longer cared who knew about her or what they thought. She was his family, his blood, and nothing was going to stop him from telling her how much he loved her.

By the time the two firemen arrived at Rampart, the ambulance and squad had already left. Mike walked with Marco to the waiting area and suggested he have a seat. Mike then walked over to the sign-in desk to inquire about Miss LeRoux while Marco waited nervously on the yellow double seat with his back to an obviously upset young man who was rocking back and forth, crying. Several minutes later, as Mike was returning to the place where Marco sat, he noticed a bedraggled looking physician he had never seen before, walking solemnly toward the waiting room. A blonde-haired nurse who looked somewhat familiar guided the doctor to the man sitting behind Marco. 

“Hey,” Mike began, returning to take a seat beside Marco. “The nurse said she would go find out something and let us know.” 

Marco merely nodded.

The unknown physician, wearing sweat-soaked scrubs walked up to the young man. “Sir, are you here with Miss LeRoux?”

Both Mike and Marco overheard the familiar name. Marco’s heart skipped a beat, both men anxious for news about Alexia. As they stood up, preparing to discuss Alexia’s condition, they both heard the news that sent Mike’s heart reeling and Marco collapsing in disbelief.

“Yes, is she gonna be okay?” The distraught young man asked.

“I’m sorry,” the physician said to the nervous young man, using his most comforting voice. “I’m afraid that Alexandra LeRoux died. There was nothing we could do to save her.”

The room suddenly felt hot, and Marco couldn’t see more than a couple of feet in front of him. A hazy mist floated into his line of vision as he slowly drifted against his taller friend. Mike wasn’t sure he had heard correctly until he saw how pale Marco was becoming.

“Marco?” 

The unknown doctor continued his conversation with the distraught young man, seemingly unconcerned about the man collapsing in the waiting room. “Sir, if you’ll come with me, I’ll be able to give you her personal effects. Again, I’m very sorry for your loss.” The young man stood up, clutching his midsection and reaching for the wall as if it were shifting away from him. The blonde-haired nurse grabbed his elbow, leading him away from the waiting room with the physician flanking him on the other side. 

Mike felt the full weight of his lineman collapsing against him. He reached beneath Marco’s arms, holding him around his abdomen, and lowering him down to the floor. He looked around for the unknown physician, but the man was heading toward Dr. Brackett’s office with the distraught young man. Suddenly, a voice he recognized called out to him and he looked up into the most welcoming familiar face he had ever seen.

“Mike, Marco!”

“Dixie, help me, please.”

The emergency room nurse kneeled down beside the fallen man, reaching for his wrist. An orderly came over with a stretcher and he and Mike lifted the unconscious man onto the gurney. 

“Marco? Come on, sweetheart… Wake up for us,” Dixie crooned, lightly patting his mustached face. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Mike walked hurriedly alongside the gurney as Dixie directed them into treatment room four. She saw Mike standing beside his comrade, a forlorn look on his face. “He, ah… Well, we overheard about…,” he stammered as Dixie went about checking Marco’s vitals. A couple of shouts, curses and the sounds of scuffling in the hallway sent Mike scrambling to the door without finishing his statement. As he opened the door, he was stunned by what he saw.

The young man who had claimed to be with Alexandra LeRoux was lying prostrate on the floor in the open doorway of room 127. The unknown physician had a knee planted firmly in the middle of his back, gripping the young man in a chokehold while the blonde-haired nurse twisted the groaning man’s right arm behind his back. Detective Crockett kneeled down behind the struggling trio, retrieving his handcuffs and slapping the metal rings on the wrists of the young man, who had attempted to leave Dr. Brackett’s office when he realized his ruse was over.

“Ricardo Gomez, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. If you….” The black officer recited, reaching down to assist the physician in lifting the young man to his feet as he continued to mirandized his prisoner. 

“I ain’t done nothin’ wrong, you damn stinkin’ Pig!” The young man shouted, obviously no longer upset by the death of his alleged girlfriend.

The doctor pointed a finger at the young man’s chest. “You’ve done so much wrong, it’ll take us all night to book your sorry ass,” the doctor mumbled, nodding at Mike who remained stunned as he stood in the doorway.

Detective Crockett looked over his shoulder and grinned widely. “We got ‘im, Mike.”

Mike nodded his thanks to the detective, still confused by what he was seeing. Lieutenant Crockett noticed the conflicting emotions on the engineer’s face. “Hey, Jake, Sheila… Search him then take him in, will ya? I need to talk to the girl’s brother.”

Ron walked over to the door where Mike stood. “He come around yet?”  
Mike felt a mixture of confusion and anger, both at what he was seeing, and what he had overheard in the waiting room. He didn’t understand how Ron could be acting so nonchalantly about the death of the woman they had been trying to rescue. “No, Ron. Damn it, he just found out his sister’s dead,” Mike retorted in anger.

“Yea… I’m sorry how this all went down, Mike, but… She isn’t dead. Alexandra LeRoux is dead, but Alexia Lopez is alive and in treatment room three.”

“What?”

“Mike,” Ron said running a nervous finger beneath his nose. “That’s why I needed to get here before she did. I found out from dispatch that St. Francis was on diversion after you had pulled into traffic. I had to make a decision – follow you and let you know where she was being taken, or follow the ambulance and make the arrangements for the arrest. I chose to take down her pimp. I had to explain everything to the staff, and find a set of scrubs for my buddy, Detective Jake Nichols and a nursing uniform for Deputy Sheila, uh….” 

The blonde-haired nurse winked at the black detective. “Yea, you never can remember my last name, can ya?” She gave Mike a toothy grin. “I haven’t seen you since I was working undercover here a couple of years ago. How’s Johnny these days?”

“F-fine, ah…”

Ron watched as understanding began to appear on Mike’s pale face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t have a chance to tell you when the two of you walked in, but… We just couldn’t let their cover be blown, and we had no idea that her pimp would show up so quickly. We needed him to believe that she was dead. That way he would think he was being questioned about her whereabouts, any enemies, that sort of thing. We didn’t want him to find out that she’s actually alive; gotta keep him thinking she’s dead, for as long as possible. We don’t want one of his cronies to go out looking for her. And, we didn’t know if he was armed so we had to find a way to get him away from the crowd out there,” he nodded his head towards the waiting room. “But, when I started asking questions, he got suspicious and bolted. He almost made it out the door before Jake tackled him. I’m really sorry.”

Finally, Mike started to smile slightly, just as movement and groaning began from the exam table. “Marco?” Mike called out returning to the place where his friend lay. 

“Da… Ugh.”

Dixie began brushing Marco’s forehead and talking directly to him. “That’s it. Come on, Marco. We need you to open those beautiful brown eyes of yours.” 

“Um.”

“Hey, Lopez,” Mike began. “Lexi’s alive, Pal.” He looked over at Dixie, finally allowing a smile to cross his face. “That was Ricardo out there,” he continued, just as Marco began opening his eyes. “Detective Crockett arrested him. The doctor we heard was an undercover detective. Oh, and remember that fuzz lady that Gage had the crush on? She helped, too. It was great, man.”

“Le-xi?” Marco blinked rapidly, trying to force his brain to comprehend what he was hearing.

“That’s right,” Dixie soothed. “Kel and Joe are with her right now. As soon as they’re done, we’ll let you go in to see her, okay?”

“M-Mike? Really?” Marco continued his questioning as he began to push himself up off the exam table.

“Yes, she’s alive. She’s injured, buddy. But she’s alive and she’s here.”

“Now, lie back down,” Dixie ordered in her most caring voice. “I’m not letting you up until that blood pressure goes back up a little. You’re still woozy aren’t you?”

Marco acquiesced with a sigh, the room still spinning a little. “C-can I have some… Some water, please?” He asked, rubbing his stinging eyes.

“You bet,” Mike replied, looking around the room.

“I’ll get him a pitcher with some ice water in it,” Dixie responded. “Would you like something, Mike?”

Mike tried to lick his lips in response, only to realize that his mouth was dry as well. “Um, yea. Maybe bring a couple of cups. If you don’t mind, that is.”

Dixie’s smile lit up her pretty blue eyes. “No problem. You just hang out with him for a few minutes, make sure he doesn’t try to escape, and I’ll be right back.”

“I’m not John, Dixie… I’ll be right here,” Marco chuckled softly, his eyes closing and tears beginning to leak out from the corners.

Mike wasn’t sure how to console his hurting friend. He reached over, placing a comforting hand on the prone man’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Marco. It’s all going to be okay.”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” he sniffled. “I’m so confused, Mike. I… I don’t know what to believe.” His shoulders continued to shutter as he cried silently. “I… I just need to see for myself.”

“Well, you heard the lady. You need to just lay still for a few minutes, at least until you get your land legs back, alright?”

Marco opened his watery eyes and found the room still tilting slightly. “W-would you… do it?”

“Do what, Pal?”

Marco turned his head slightly; he needed to see Mike’s face. “Would you go see… See if it’s really… Lexi?”

Mike squeezed his friend’s shoulder just as the exam room door opened. “Be right back,” he said, locking eyes with Dixie. He intercepted her near the door. “Would it be alright if I just peeked in on his sister?”

Dixie stood near the doorway holding a tray with a pitcher and two cups on it. She searched the engineer’s face for a moment, then looked over at Marco who still lay deathly still on the exam table with his eyes closed. She returned her gaze to Mike, giving her head a quick nod in Marco’s direction. “For him?”

“Yea,” Mike said, glancing briefly at his pale friend. “He’s having a little trouble determining what’s real and what isn’t. I think if I can tell him I saw her myself then he’ll feel better,” he whispered.

“Sure, she’s in three. Just, ah, just stick your head in the door, though. Don’t want Kel yelling at you to get out of his way. He can be a little short-tempered when I’m not in there to keep him straight,” she said, winking at the tall man. “But, his bark is worse than his bite.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mike said, smiling slightly for the first time in several long hours. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll stay with him.”

“Thanks, Dixie.”

Mike stepped into the hallway and headed for treatment room three. He inhaled deeply, steeling his nerves before opening the door, the memory of her curled up in her burning apartment still assaulting his mind. He pressed his lips into a thin line, and inched the door open enough to stick his head inside. There, he caught a glimpse of Alexia Lopez’ naked form. There were bruises and stripes covering a large percentage of her body. She was wearing an oxygen mask and appeared as pale as death. But, one thing was certain. She was alive. He saw her responding to Dr. Brackett when he called out her name, her real name. Her head rolled from side to side as the physician attended to her wounds. Dr. Early was palpating her scalp, no doubt looking for any signs of trauma that might be hidden by her long dark hair. A nurse was administering medication through one of her two IV’s while another one began bandaging some of the injuries on her lower legs. Mike stepped back into the hallway, the occupants of treatment room three oblivious to his momentary presence. He then returned to treatment room four to share what he had seen with Marco. 

Dixie raised the head of the exam table, offering Marco a sip of the ice cold water. “There you go. Just sip it slowly, sometimes things tend to come back up after an episode like you had.”

When the door opened, both of them turned to look at Mike. He didn’t wait for Marco to ask the question. 

“It’s her, and she is definitely alive,” he said with a smile. “She’s responding a little to Dr. Brackett when he calls out her name. That’s a really good sign, right Dixie?”

“Yes, it is.” She turned back to Marco. “As soon as they get her ready, Mike and I will help you into a wheelchair and take you to see her, okay?”

“Um, ‘kay,” the weak man moaned. “Thank you… Both of you.” He broke down once more, his shoulders shuttering with his gut-wrenching sobs. She had been found. She was injured, but she had been found. And, her pimp had been arrested. Now, she could return home to her family without the fear of being further injured by the ruthless man.

Dixie wrapped her arms around Marco, allowing him to cry on her shoulder. She rubbed soothing circles along his back, knowing that the action would do more to calm him than anything she could say. Mike stepped over, once again placing a calming hand on the weeping man’s shoulder.

“Marco? Why don’t I call Chet? I think he’d want to be here for you and…” Mike wasn’t sure how to say the rest of what he needed to say. Deciding that being straight-forward was probably best, he continued. “I think he’ll understand about Lexi and… I mean…”

“Yea… Chet already knows about her so, yea… I’d really appreciate it if you’d, ah… If you’d let him know that she’s… She’s been found and… She’s… alive,” he finally managed to croak out amid his heaving sobs.

“Go make the call, Mike. I’ll stay here with him,” Dixie offered, rubbing Marco’s shuttering shoulder.

Mike nodded his thanks to the blonde-haired nurse then turned and walked out the door. He headed for the bank of pay phones, fishing a dime out of his pants pocket. He had to look up Chet’s phone number in the telephone book since it wasn’t a number he called very often. As soon as he found it he slammed the thick phone book closed and deposited his money. He quickly dialed the number, his heart thudding inside his chest as he waited for his crew mate to answer. After the seventh ring, he returned the receiver to the cradle, running his hand through his hair once more as he contemplated what to do next. Since they were not on shift, Chet was likely with Caroline, but Mike didn’t know her telephone number. He searched the thick telephone book again, but didn’t find a number listed for Caroline Marks. He assumed she had an unlisted number, being a single lady living alone with her young daughter. Then he remembered that Joanne DeSoto was keeping Corrie while Caroline worked. He quickly redeposited his dime, dialing Roy’s telephone number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Roy. This is Mike. Um, it’s a long story, but Marco’s at Rampart, nothing serious, but I’m trying to get in touch with Chet. He isn’t answering his phone so I’m guessing he’s with Caroline. Do you happen to know her telephone number?”

On the other end of the line, Roy was trying to sort out the details of Mike’s rushed statement. Marco was in the hospital? Had he reinjured his ankle? And, if so, then why was Mike being so elusive about the details? “Um, yea… Hold on just a minute.”

Mike could hear the muffled sounds of voices talking, and he knew that Roy had covered the receiver while he talked to Joanne. Moments later, he spoke up. “Okay, it’s 555 – 3383. Is he going to be okay?”

“Yea, I’m sure he is. It’s, um, I’m just not at liberty to say what’s going on, you know? I’m sorry, Roy.” Mike hung his head. He hated hiding things from the rest of the crew, but the story was Marco’s to tell, not his, and he wasn’t going to violate the trust of a friend.

“Yea, sure… Okay. Um, let me know if he needs anything. I can be there in fifteen minutes or less.”

“I will. Thanks, Roy.” Mike hung up the phone, quickly digging out another dime and dialing the number for Caroline.

At the DeSoto residence, Roy hung the phone up, staring at the instrument for a few moments. He then picked the receiver up again, and quickly dialed a number he knew as well as his own. Something bad was going on with Marco, and he wanted to be there for his friend. He knew Johnny would want to be there for Marco, too.

In her darkened bedroom, Caroline was reveling in the sensations of Chet nibbling on her lower earlobe while his hands left tingling trails of fire as he touched her most sensitive areas. Then, she heard her telephone ringing. “Um, ugh!”

“Let it… ring,” the passionate man responded, continuing his ministrations.

“I… I can’t, Chet. Just… It’ll wake Corrie,” she whispered, removing herself from his arms, and reaching over to her nightstand. “He-hello?”

“Ah, this is Mike Stoker. I work with Chet. He wouldn’t happen to be there would he?” 

She knitted her eyebrows together in confusion. “Um, yes… He’s right here,” she said, handing the receiver to Chet.

Chet gave her a quizzical look, but accepted the telephone. “Yea, Chet here?”

“Chet, it’s Mike. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Chet rolled his eyes. “Oh, no it’s okay. I was just heading for home,” he said cryptically. He heard Caroline snicker, turning her face into the pillow so Mike wouldn’t hear her laughing at the obvious sexual innuendo.

“Okay, good, listen it’s… Ooohh… ugh. Sorry, man,” Mike said, slowly understanding what Chet had meant. “Um, Roy gave me Caroline’s number. Marco’s at Rampart and I think he really needs you.”

“What?” Chet’s eyes grew wide as he sat up in bed. “Is he alright? Well, of course he isn’t or he wouldn’t be at the hospital. Damn, what happened, Mike?”

“Well, he, ah… He told me that you know about Lexi, his sister.” Mike hoped Marco had actually spoken to Chet about his sister and wasn’t just confused by his syncopal episode.

“Yea… He shared with me how you and he are looking for her.” Once again, Chet’s eyes grew as large as saucers. “Is she in the hospital?”

“Yes, and… It’s a long story, Chet. Can you come down and meet us in the ER? We can explain it all to you then.”

Chet ran a hand through his curly hair. “Yea, sure. I’m on my way.” He handed the telephone back to Caroline and waited for her to hang up.

“Heading for home?” She snickered again, snorting as she giggled into the blanket.

“You liked that, huh?” He asked, a smile registering on his face. 

“It was better than just saying it outright.” Caroline looked at him closely. She had overheard enough of the conversation to know that someone Chet cared about was sick or injured. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Marco. He’s at Rampart in the ER. It’s a long story and I promise to tell you about it soon, but…” He hesitated, leaning in and kissing her passionately. “As much as I really want to finish what we started, I uh, I don’t want to have to rush it so…”

“I understand,” Caroline said, throwing back the covers and getting out of bed to pull on her robe. “I promise, I’ll be here whenever you get back.” She leaned in again, kissing him on the tip of his nose.

He wrapped her in his arms, nuzzling her neck. “God, I love you so much, Baby.”

“I love you, too. Now, get going. He needs you.”

Chet pulled back, quickly kissing her again on the cheek before getting dressed. He walked as quietly as he could down the hallway, not wanting to disturb Corrie’s sleep. When he reached for the door, Caroline’s hands reached around his waist hugging him from behind. Once more, he twisted around, kissing her deeply, before walking out the door and to his van, heading for Rampart.

E!

“Okay, I’d say she’s ready to be moved to ICU,” Dr. Brackett ordered, covering his patient with a sheet and warming blanket. “Let me see if her family is here before she goes upstairs. Then, I want vitals every hour, and notify me as soon as those labs come back.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Nurse Sally Lewis replied, charting the orders. 

Just as Dr. Brackett opened the treatment room door, his favorite nurse stood poised to enter the room. As was his manner, Dr. Brackett was all business. “Has any of her family arrived yet, Dix?”

In the hallway, Dixie stood between the two physicians, her hands resting in the pockets of her white uniform. “Yes, Marco’s in four,” she replied in her soft, smoky voice. “He overheard the undercover officer saying that she was dead, and he had a syncopal episode, but he’s conscious and alert, now. Mike Stoker caught him before he hit the floor so he wasn’t injured.”

The corner of the dark-haired physician’s mouth twitched. He dreaded telling Marco about his sister’s injuries, but he was her next of kin. “Joe, wanna come with me to talk to him?”

“Sure.”

Inside treatment room four, Mike was helping Marco sit up when the medical staff walked in. Both men looked up at the sound of the opening door.

“Doc? Is she okay?”

The deep voice of Dr. Kelly Brackett was both professional and compassionate as he contemplated Marco’s question. “Yes, I expect her to recover fully. She does have some medical issues that will keep her here for several days, though.”

Marco’s chin dropped in relief. As he stared at the floor, summoning up the courage to ask about her injuries, Dr. Brackett continued on.

“Marco, I don’t know how much you’ve been told about her condition, but…”

“Just that she’s alive and that her apartment was on fire,” the lineman responded quickly.

Again, Dr. Brackett’s lip twitched slightly. “I see. Well, she does have some smoke inhalation. That alone is enough to keep her here overnight, but she also seems to be in the early stages of pneumonia. She’ll be treated with IV antibiotics for that. That can happen when a person gets run down and isn’t taking very good care of themselves. And,” he hesitated, his blue eyes looking at Mike for a moment before returning back to Marco. “She was severely beaten.”

“Ohmygod,” Marco spat out, his jaw muscles clenching together tightly as he pinched the bridge of his nose again.

“She doesn’t appear to have a concussion, but she is covered in bruises and stripe marks.” He waited to see if the Latino man might offer some explanation. When Marco didn’t speak up, Dr. Brackett continued. “It looks like whoever did this was trying to cause her more pain than anything else. I don’t think he was trying to kill her.”

Marco’s eyes remained closed, his fists gripping the exam table so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “She was whipped, wasn’t she?”

The two physician’s looked at each other then back at Marco. Mike swallowed back the bile burning his throat as he considered what she had endured. 

“Goddamned mother-fu…”

“Mike, don’t,” Marco said, halting the engineer’s uncharacteristic swearing rant. “Whatever he did to her… It’s already done. We… We can’t undo it.”

“I know, but Jeezus, Marco. How can anyone…,” he bit his tongue, not wanting to interfere with whatever else the physician’s needed to say. “I’m sorry, Doc.”

“It’s okay. And for the record, I agree with you. He’ll have his day in court, and I’ll be more than happy to testify as to the extent of her injuries. I understand he was taken down in the hallway a little while ago.”

Mike nodded in affirmation.

“Good. Now, we need to focus on helping your sister, Marco. Does she have any allergies that you know of, take any medications, or does she use any street drugs?”

“She’s not a junkie, Dr. Brackett. I know what you’re thinking, and I just want to say that my parents raised all of us to be good, respectful…”

“Marco.”

“Catholics. We attended Mass and we never…”

“Marco!”

Dark eyes looked up, suddenly feeling a little foolish. “I’m sorry,” he said, lowering his head once more. “It’s just that my father’s death seemed to affect her in a different way than the rest of us. She was so much younger than…”

“Look at me,” Dr. Brackett requested, leaning in closer to Marco’s face and waiting for him to look up before continuing. “I’m not standing here in judgment of her or you or anybody else for that matter. Joe and I are here as her physicians who are talking to her next of kin, who also happens to be a personal friend. Now, I’m sending her up to ICU so that we can keep a close check on her vitals, administer the antibiotics, and treat her injuries. It’ll take a little while for the labs to come back. As she regains consciousness, she’s going to be in pain and I’d like to make her as comfortable as possible, so I’m just trying to make sure that we don’t order something that could cause more harm than good. Understood?”

Marco ran his open palm down his face, drying the moisture that seemed to be free-flowing from his dark blood-shot eyes. “I know… I apologize… She, ah, I don’t know if she’s using anything, but she isn’t allergic to any medications.”

“I’ve talked to her several times, and I never saw anything to make me think she might be using,” Mike offered.

“Good, then I’ll order a sedative for her. She needs a lot of rest and support over the next few days,” Dr. Brackett said, placing a comforting hand on Marco’s shoulder. 

“Lieutenant Crocker said he was going to contact someone at a place called The Wellhouse. It’s an organization that helps women like your sister reclaim their lives and get off the street. I think it would be a good idea if you and your family spoke with the case worker, too. She might be able to offer some help on how to cope with all of this,” Dr. Early said, his compassion overflowing as usual.

Marco continued to nod his head and dry his eyes. He felt as if every emotion he had felt over the last five years was somehow towering over him, suffocating him. “Can I… Can I see her now?”

Both Joe and Kel smiled at each other. They both knew how important support was to a patient’s recovery.

“You bet,” Kel replied, patting Marco’s shoulder.

“Not under your own power, Mr. Lopez,” Dixie cautioned, pulling out a folded wheelchair from the corner of the room. “You get the Rampart Taxi service.”

“But it’s just a few feet, right?” Marco argued.

“Doesn’t matter,” Dr. Early chuckled. “It’s Dixie’s Emergency Department so it’s Dixie’s rules, right Dix?”

The blonde-haired nurse, rolled her eyes slowly at her long-time friend. “Well… It’s about time you men finally figured out who was really in charge around here.” Dixie pushed the chair closer to the exam table. “Alright, let’s do this slowly, one foot at a time,” she ordered, locking the wheelchair into position as Mike stepped closer to Marco to assist him. 

Marco felt stronger as soon as his feet touched the floor. He carefully sat down in the wheelchair, his entire body trembling anxiously. He was about to see his sister for the first time in nearly five years. He had been preparing a speech for her, in the event that this day might actually occur. Now that it was here, he couldn’t think of anything eloquent to say to her. He would tell her how much he loved her and missed her, that much was certain. As he was wheeled into the corridor, his heart slamming around inside his chest, he decided that words were over-rated anyway. Actions would mean more than anything else. And right now, all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms, protect her from the evil she had been living in, and return her to the mother and son who needed her more than anyone else.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Alexia felt herself floating, spinning, and drifting around aimlessly with voices echoing in her ears. Was she dreaming? She tried to open her eyes, but found her lids were nearly too heavy for the task. She managed to crack them open only slightly. Figures dressed in white moved around, one calling her name. She tried to respond, but was unable to find her voice. She moved her head in the direction of the deep voice, no longer fearful. Memories from religious training she received as a child returned to her, even in her weakened condition, and she wondered if perhaps she was in heaven. Then the darkness mercifully claimed her.

Time no longer meant anything to her as she teetered on the edge of consciousness once more. How long had she been here? She didn’t know. She felt hands touching her, but they weren’t threatening or hurtful. She felt a warm large hand gently grasping hers. Tentatively, she managed to squeeze back slightly then felt masculine fingers stroking her forehead. Softly, a voice that sounded so familiar to her called her name.

“Lexi?”

Struggling, she summoned all the strength she could find to open her eyes enough to see the blurry face of a person she had missed so much in the last few years, and heard a voice from her past calling to her.

“That’s it, open your eyes for me. You’re safe, baby girl. It’s all over now.”

The voice continued to pull her from the darkness as slowly the blurry features of the man speaking to her began to take shape. The dark hair, the mustache, the figures in white floating around in the background, it all made sense now. She truly was in heaven.

“P-Papa?”

Marco felt the stinging in his eyes begin again. She didn’t recognize him, but he understood her statement. He had always been told that he looked like his father, especially since he had grown his thick mustache. He continued holding her hand and stroking her forehead, not wanting to cause her any pain by touching her injuries. 

“No, honey. It’s not Papa; it’s me, Marco. I’m here. I love you, Lexi. I’m so glad to have you back,” he crooned, struggling with his own emotions. She looked so much like the frightened little eight-year old girl he remembered on the day their father had died. He thought of how he had held her crying on that long ago morning, as their grieving mother had been surrounded by her younger sons and members of the fire service. Now, as he watched his younger sister trembling and crying, he felt as helpless as he did back then.

Alexia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her oldest brother was holding her hand, telling her she was safe. She felt the throbbing in her head begin, her neck aching as she rolled her face towards him. Tears began to stream down her hot cheeks, and she remembered hearing that there were no tears in heaven. That could only mean one thing. She was still in the same hell she had been living in for five years. She tried to lick her lips, unable to moisten the cracked skin. Suddenly, a straw touched her lips, and the same warm voice bid her to drink.

“Here you go, Lexi. Just a couple of sips, alright? Everything’s going to be fine.” Marco watched as she struggled to draw the cooling liquid from the straw. He saw her wince as she swallowed. He wanted to allow her to have more, but Dixie was there to take back the cup. He looked at the nurse with pleading eyes, but she simply shook her head. He knew that the IV fluids were more important for her body, but he also knew how comforting a cool drink of water could be for parched lips and throat. He needed to comfort her today, just as he had consoled her when she was a child. And now, just as he had back then, he felt completely inadequate for the task. 

Somewhere in her haze, Alexia began to put the pieces together. She wasn’t in heaven, so she had to still be alive. The man with the familiar voice had identified himself as Marco, and he had called her ‘baby girl.’ She felt the tubing looping around her ears and resting beneath her nose. She felt the tug of tape along her left forearm and her right wrist. The only other time she had ever felt that sensation had been when she had had an IV established while she labored with her son. She had to be in a hospital. But how had she gotten there? She wondered how Marco had found out what Ricardo had done to her. Suddenly, she gasped at the realization that her oldest brother was sitting beside her on her hospital bed. She had not been this close to any member of her family since she had left her newborn son on her mother’s doorstep. Ricardo had told her what would happen to all of them if she ever had any contact with her family after that night. Her heart seemed to leap into her throat, her respiration rate increased, and she felt as though she would suffocate. Her vision blurred and her head throbbed. She had to make him understand. No matter how badly she wanted to remain beside him, in the safety of his presence, she couldn’t allow it. He had to get away from her.

“N-no…”

“Shhhh, don’t try to talk, sweetheart,” Marco said softly.

“No… Go ‘way… G’waaay!” She cried, the sound of her sobs nearly drowned out by the beeping of her heart monitor as she struggled to push him away from her.

“Lexi? Lexi, no… It’s me, Marco. It’s okay…” Marco was determined to remain firmly planted beside her bed, unwilling to be moved. He feared that if he lost sight of her, he might never see her again.

Dr. Brackett immediately moved to the bedside of his patient in distress. Dr. Early grasped Marco’s upper arm as Dixie moved to take a fresh set of vitals. 

“C’mon, Marco. She needs to rest.”

“What’s wrong with her? I can’t leave her, Dr. Early,” the lineman argued. “She needs me. I’m her family.”

“Nooo…. P’ease… G’way…. Go awaayyy-ayyy,” she wailed. Her only thoughts were on getting as far away from her brother as possible. It was the only way to keep him safe, the only way to keep all of her family safe, including her precious son.

“Lexi…,” Dr. Brackett spoke softly to her. “Lexi, he’s gone. I need for you to calm down now, alright?”

“Noooo… ‘waaayyyyy,” she continued to wail, thrashing her head from side to side, unconcerned about the pain it caused.

Dr. Brackett spoke in a voice Dixie recognized all too well. “Get me 2 mg of diazepam, Dix,” he commanded. “We’ve got to get her settled back down before she hurts herself even worse.” He held his thrashing patient’s face with both his hands, leaning his forearms along her shoulders in an effort to softly restrain her. 

Dixie quickly administered the ordered medication, blinking her eyes rapidly. Rarely did she ever cry for a patient, but this was different. This was the young sister of a member of her adopted family, the firemen of Station 51. That made her a very special patient to Dixie. Over the years, the ER nurse had witnessed many sad, cruel episodes of human tragedy, but this one was proving to test her own well-honed coping mechanisms. She fought back the tears as the young woman on the gurney began to relax under the effects of the Valium. The terror in Alexia’s swollen eyes was haunting, and Dixie finally had to turn her own face away to dry her eyes. She heard Joe’s steady voice consoling Marco as the two men walked out of the treatment room into the corridor. Normally, that would have been a role Dixie would have played, but on this night and with this patient, she was grateful for the experience the older physician had, and his willingness to take care of their worried friend. He always seemed to have an insight into human behavior that the others didn’t possess. Tonight, it was definitely needed.

“What’s going on Dr. Early? Did I do something wrong?” Marco asked, twisting out of the grip of the gray-haired physician. “She’s just confused. She doesn’t know where she is. She thinks that Ricardo is still here, right?”

“It’s hard to say. She’s been through a terrible trauma, so we simply don’t know what might be going through her mind right now. We just need to give her some time and some space to gather herself together.” Truthfully, Dr. Early wasn’t sure what might be going on with Alexia. Regardless of what Marco or anyone else in her family might think, she was an adult now and she had the right to refuse a guest, even if that guest was her own brother.

“But, she needs me. She needs… She needs her Mama. I – I need to call home,” he said, turning to walk toward the bank of pay phones just as a familiar face rounded the corner heading for the nurses’ station.

“Chet?” Marco’s voice cracked at the sight of his friend.

“Hey, buddy,” Chet returned, patting his friend on his shoulder. “How’s she doin’?”

“She’s…” Marco gasped, telling his friend was more difficult than he had expected. 

“Why don’t you and Chet go into the lounge and get a cup of coffee. Wait a little while before you call the rest of your family with the news. I’ll come give you an update in a few minutes,” Dr. Early said softly.

“Sounds like a good plan,” Chet responded, not knowing what had transpired before his arrival. He walked slowly beside his friend to the staff lounge. As he pushed through the doorway, he saw a sight that brought tears to his own eyes. There, standing in various places around the room was Roy, Mike, and Johnny. 

“Guys?” Marco said, the inflection in his voice telling them that he wasn’t expecting their presence. “Wh-what are you doing here?” 

“We heard you were having a rough night. Thought we’d come by and check on you,” Roy said, moving his face from Johnny to Mike, looking for support. 

“I hope you don’t mind, Marco. When we found out something was wrong, we knew we needed to come by and see if you needed anything,” Johnny added. 

Marco looked at Mike, who was holding his face down. The quiet engineer didn’t know how Marco might react to the rest of the guys being present. He had only consented to Mike contacting Chet, no one else.

Marco could tell by Mike’s demeanor that he was uncomfortable, and he wanted to offer him a bit of relief. “Thanks, fellas. I… I could really… really use my friends… right now,” he mumbled around the lump in his throat. Immediately, he felt himself being pushed backwards gently, until he was able to sit on the brown sofa. He lowered his face into his hands, releasing the gut-wrenching sobs he had been fighting back so hard since he had found out his sister had survived. He felt familiar hands patting his shoulders, tissues were pushed towards his face, and several minutes later a cup of cool water was handed to him. His friends, always so giving and caring to complete strangers, were giving back to one of their own. He struggled to accept their gestures of kindness, feeling a sense of unworthiness. The full reality of the situation had hit him squarely in the gut. He had been too ashamed of his sister to allow his friends to know about her; at least, until he had finally shared with his engineer. Then he had managed to tell Chet what was going on with her. But he had never considered telling Johnny or Roy, yet here they were for him. He had anticipated judgment from all four of them, yet he had received their compassion instead.

After several long moments, he was able to speak again. “I’m sorry, fellas. I guess I should have told you, but… I was… I mean…”

“We all would’ve felt the same way, Marco,” Chet, never being one to mince words, spoke candidly for the weeping man.

“I was ash-ashamed of her,” Marco continued to struggle.

“No,” Mike corrected. “You were ashamed of the life she’s been living. You’ve never been ashamed of her.” Mike felt unusually defensive of the helpless young woman he had rescued earlier. 

Johnny and Roy were beginning to put the pieces together, although neither of them had a complete picture, yet. The two paramedics exchanged glances, about to speak when suddenly the door opened up. A dark-haired woman in her mid-thirties entered, followed closely by Lieutenant Crockett.

“Good evening, men,” the officer said, acknowledging everyone present. He was taken aback by the group, but knew how cohesive the A-shift at Station 51 could be. “Mind if we talk to Mr. Lopez alone?” 

Marco looked up, not recognizing the woman who was pulling out a chair from the table and moving it closer to him. “It’s okay, Ron. They can all stay. I… I really need my brothers right now.”

“Very well,” the black detective said, pulling out a chair to join his guest. “I just talked to Dr. Brackett and it seems that Alexia is resting comfortably.”

Marco nodded, still unsure of what he had witnessed earlier with his sister’s sudden emotional meltdown. “Good… That’s good.”

Ron glanced at Mike and then back to the man sitting in front of him. “Marco, this is Beverly Marsh. She’s a crisis worker at The Wellhouse.”

The confident appearing woman extended her right hand to shake the trembling hand of Marco. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Lopez.”

“Um, it’s Marco. You can just call me Marco.”

“Very well… And you can just call me Beverly. I’m here to help your sister get out of the entanglement she’s in right now. And I hope to help you and your family become reacquainted with her, too.”

Marco immediately felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “We don’t need to become reacquainted with her. We know her. We just need to take her home and everything will be alright.”

Beverly inhaled deeply, briefly making eye contact with each man standing around Marco. “I know you feel that way, but I promise you that it isn’t that easy.”

“Don’t tell me what’s easy and what isn’t when it comes to my family. You don’t know me and you don’t know my sister,” Marco said, his voice nearly becoming a shout. 

“Marco,” she said, leaning a little closer to him. “I DO know.”

Marco looked up, his eyes blood-shot and watery. “Oh yea? Well, just how do you know, huh? How do you know what it’s like to not know if your baby sister is alive or dead? How do you know what it’s like to wonder if she’s cold or, hungry or,… Or in pain?”

Beverly never hesitated before she began her self-disclosure. “I’ll tell you how I know, Marco. I know, because not so long ago, I was your sister,” she said, pointing to herself. “I was the young woman who felt hopeless, helpless, and worthless, lying alone in a hospital room with my neck stitched closed, where a john had slit my throat and left me for dead,” she grimaced, pulling back the collar of her blouse enough to display the fading red scar. “I was the young woman who had been torn away from her family and brainwashed into thinking that they didn’t love her, or even want her, anymore. I was the young woman who had completely given up on life because it seemed like no one else cared if she lived or died… So neither did I. Then I got a visit from a stranger who told me that what I was going through didn’t have to define me. What I had done didn’t mean that I could do nothing with the rest of my life. Where I had been didn’t matter to the family who had never stopped searching for me and had never stopped loving me. There was hope for women like me. I was not a worthless piece of garbage to be used and tossed aside like last week’s newspaper. I was worth something. Now, I’m here tonight because I believe your sister is feeling the same thing I felt all those years ago. I know the lies she’s been told and I know how to help her overcome them. But… I have a lot to offer you and the rest of her family, too.”

Marco’s initial revulsion was subsiding. If this well-dressed, professional-looking woman had come out of the place Alexia was currently in, then Marco knew he needed to listen to what she had to say. “My apologies, Ms. Marsh.”

“Accepted… As long as you call me Beverly,” she said, offering a smile for the first time since she had arrived.

“Beverly,” Marco relented.

“Thank you. That’s much better. I’m only 37 so don’t call me Ms. Marsh,” she snickered. “Now, I know it’s late and I know you’re tired. I plan to stay here tonight to be available for Alexia, if she needs me. I’ve been briefed on her condition, and I believe that she’ll likely sleep through the night. I would like to speak to Mike…,” she allowed her voice to fade as she scanned the room.

“I’m Mike,” the engineer offered, stepping forward slightly.

“I believe you’ve been spending a little time with our patient, right?”

Roy and Johnny tried to discreetly look at each other, questioning what they had just heard. Chet saw them and slapped Johnny in the stomach with the back of his hand. “Nu-uh,” he chided in a whisper.

“I know, I know,” Johnny shot back, low enough that Marco didn’t hear him.

“Well, Mike,” Beverly said, standing and walking over to the corner where Mike stood. “Do you have a few minutes for me to get some information from you? You’ve had more contact with her recently than anyone else, right?”

Mike and Marco exchanged glances. “Yes, that’s right, but Marco is her brother. He would know more about….”

“He would know more about her as a child. You probably know more about her as a trafficked person,” Beverly interjected.

“Trafficked?” Chet asked, unsure of the meaning of the word.

Beverly turned around to face the man who had asked the question. Her dark tresses cascaded over her shoulder, held back by a navy blue headband. Gray streaks were more noticeable as she moved beneath the fluorescent light. “Yes, it means a person who has been forced through threats, violence, coercion, or drug addiction, to perform acts against their will. Sometimes, it’s forced labor. More often, especially with young women and girls, they’re forced to become sex workers.”

“But, that sounds like slavery. Slavery’s been abolished for over one hundred years,” Chet argued.

“That’s right, it is slavery. But just because something’s been made illegal doesn’t mean it isn’t still happening. Prohibition made selling alcohol illegal, but speakeasies were very profitable during those years, right?” 

Chet looked at Beverly, noticing how sparkling her green eyes were as she spoke of something as dark as human trafficking. “Yea, I guess so.”

“Where might we talk, Mike?”

“Um,” he uttered, unsure of where they might be able to speak privately.

“Here. Right here in front of all of us,” Marco spoke up, feeling his resolve strengthen by the presence of his crew mates.

“Mind if I join you?”

All eyes in the room turned in unison to the open staff lounge door. Ron stood up, shaking the hand of the dark-haired physician who had just overheard the last few parts of the conversation. “Dr. Brackett, this is Beverly Marsh, crisis counselor from The Wellhouse. Beverly, this is Dr. Brackett, Alexia’s doctor,” he introduced.

“Thank you for taking an interest in a topic that too many physicians seem to think isn’t real,” Beverly said with a sincere smile.

“Thank you for coming out tonight to help us with our patient. As you can see, she’s rather special to a lot of folks, here,” he said, making sure Marco heard the comment.

Marco felt the burn of another tear as it streaked his cheeks after Dr. Brackett spoke.

“What I’d like to do is simply gather as much information as I can about her tonight. That will give me a little insight before I meet with her tomorrow morning.” She turned to Marco, knowing that what she was about to say wasn’t going to sit well with him. “Then, I’d like to meet with all the members of the Lopez family… Before you all go in to see her.”

“What? She needs to know we’re here for her.” Marco was too exhausted to argue with the woman, but he did want her to know he didn’t approve of her plan. 

“She’ll know, Marco. We have to take things slowly. She’s got to come to terms with a few things within herself before she sees her family. And there are things that you all need to agree to before you see her.”

“Why?” Marco asked, his voice full of frustration. “Why do you get to decide when we see her and what we have to do first?”

Beverly remained calm, refusing to allow her voice and behavior to match those of Marco. She needed to remain a calming example for the upset man in order to help him remain as calm as possible. “Because if you do it wrong, even if you mean well, you WILL hinder her recovery. Now, you don’t want that, do you, Marco?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, for example, you don’t need to ask her ANY questions. Allow her to tell you her story in her own words, in her own way, and in her own time. The worst thing you can do is create memories for her. If you pressure her into relaying what she’s been through, then she may repress some of her memories, or worse, she may imagine things happening to her that never really happened. That will make prosecution difficult at best… Maybe even impossible.”

“Is she really that emotionally fragile?” Marco asked, growing more and more worried about Alexia’s emotional status.

“My guess is that she’s one tough lady, but we all have our breaking point. I’ll work with you to help her recover as quickly and as thoroughly as possible. As long as you agree to do what I recommend, and not dive in, asking a bunch of questions on your own.” She looked at Marco directly, waiting for a response before she continued.

Marco never spoke, but nodded his agreement instead. “Excellent. Now, Mike, let’s you and I talk. Marco, why don’t you speak with the rest of your family and see if they can join us here tomorrow morning around 10:00 am. Dr. Brackett, will you find us a place to meet?”

“My office will be available if the conference room is taken,” he said, still interested in what this feisty lady had to tell them about his patient.

Roy, remembering that Marco’s nephew was living with Maria Lopez, spoke up. “Marco, if you need a babysitter for Antonio, I’m sure Jo wouldn’t mind keeping him. She’ll have Corrie tomorrow morning and I’m sure the little girl would love a playmate.”

“That’s right,” Chet spoke up. “I think those two would make a cute couple, don’t you?”

“Chet… They’re just kids, you dope,” Johnny jeered, narrowing his eyes at Chet’s inappropriate comment.

Marco gave a slight snicker at the thought. The light banter between Chet and Johnny felt comforting and reassuring, like a warm blanket on a cold night. It made him feel as if everything else was going to fall right into place from this point forward.

“Thank you, Roy. I’ll, ah… I’ll take you up on that offer. Mama and I will drop Ant off at your house around 9:30 am.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Roy said with a nod.

“Very well. Marco, are you okay to drive yourself home?” Beverly asked, seemingly forgetting that she wasn’t actually in charge in the Emergency Room. 

“I’ll take him,” Chet said, standing up and offering his hand to his best friend. “C’mon, Pal.”

“Gracias,” Marco mumbled, his blood-shot eyes meeting those of each person in the room. “Thank you all… For being here tonight… For everything.”

Johnny and Roy both nodded their acknowledgement as each man took a moment to shake Marco’s hand. “Call if you need anything, a’right?”

“Thank you, John. I will,” Marco reassured the younger paramedic. 

The group watched as Marco staggered to the staff lounge door, his best friend at his side to guide him through the emergency department, and out to the place where Chet’s van was parked. 

Back inside the staff lounge, Roy gave Johnny a nod to indicate that they needed to leave. When he saw Johnny moving towards the door, he turned to their engineer. “Mike?” Roy began, “You’ll let us know if there’s anything we can do?”

Mike nodded his affirmation, extending his hand to each of his paramedics as they departed. As soon as they left the building, Dr. Brackett spoke up once more.

“Beverly, Mike… Mind if I listen in on your conversation? I think I have a lot to learn about human trafficking.”

“Fine by me,” Beverly spoke up.

“No problem, Doc,” Mike agreed. “I just want to get the Lopez family back together.”

“So do I, Mike. But you both need to know that this will not happen overnight,” the counselor warned.

E!

Marco sat in the passenger’s seat of Chet’s van, his mind remaining with the terrified young woman he had left behind at Rampart General Hospital.

“You okay?”

Marco ran the fingers of his right hand down the sides of his dark mustache. “Hmm?”

“I was just askin’ if you were okay, man,” Chet repeated.

“I don’t know,” the older man mused, unsure of how he felt at the moment. “This is just all so… Surreal.”

Chet drove on a little further. He had no idea what the right thing to say might be, and so he allowed silence to fill the void between them. Finally, he turned into the driveway of the Lopez family residence. “I see your Mom is still awake.”

Marco looked at the soft glow of the lamp near his mother’s bedroom window. “Oh, geez. I didn’t even tell her I was leaving. She’s probably been worried sick about me.” He pulled on the handle of the van door, stepping out into the coolness of the night air. “Thanks again, Chet.”

“No sweat.”

The older lineman slammed the door shut, walking slowly up the steps and onto the porch. Part of him wanted to rush into his mother’s bedroom, wrap her in his arms, and announce to her that their prayers had been answered. However, the rest of him knew that their journey to bring Lexi home may have only just begun. 

He slowly opened the front door, trying his best to soften the usual squeaking sound that always announced when the door had been opened. He closed it back with a click, locking it behind him, then turned and headed down the hallway to his mother’s room. Gently, he knocked on her door. When he got no answer, he slowly turned the knob, quietly entering the dimly lit room.

There, curled on her side on her bed, her rosary beads clutched safely in the palm of her hand as she slept, was Maria Lopez. Marco knew she had once again been praying for her children. She always had a sense of when her children needed her prayers the most. Tonight was no different. Slowly, so as not to alarm her, he gently shook her shoulders.

“Mama? Mama, wake up. I have some good news.”

“Mmm, Marco,” she groaned, grimacing as she stretched out of her tightly curled position. “What’s wrong, son?” She asked, seeing the pained expression on his face.

“Mama, we’ve got her back. She’s alive. Lexi’s alive and she’s in a… A safe place,” he said, sitting on the side of her bed and hugging his mother as if he were once again a small boy.

“What?” Maria gulped, unsure if she had heard correctly. “What did you say, son?”

Marco pulled back, his own teary eyes peering into the aging face of his mother. “Lexi’s been rescued, Mama. She’s at Rampart, but she’s alive and she’s away from that man.”

Clutching the prayer beads tightly to her chest and making the sign of the cross, Maria softly wept. She mumbled a mixture of Spanish and English as she thanked God, while she quickly replaced the rosary beads back into the black velvet box. She jumped up, looking for her clothes and her purse. “Oh, Marco. It’s a miracle. Come on, we must go to her.”

Marco placed his hands on his mother’s shoulders. “No, Mama. We can’t go tonight. We have to make arrangements for Antonio and…”

“What is it? You’ve never been good at hiding things from me,” she commented worriedly.

“She, ah… She was beaten up pretty badly. She’s going to be fine. Dr. Brackett and Dr. Early both said so, but… Well, they’ve brought in a counselor to help her… And to help us, too.”

Maria’s dark eyes seemed to flash over in fury. Marco saw it and knew he had to offer her some reassurance to calm her down. He took a few minutes to repeat what Beverly Marsh had explained to him as well as the offer of childcare made by Roy. Slowly, she sat back down on her bed. Her shoulders slumped and her hot tears burned her face as they began the process of washing away the emotions that had broken her heart and aged her face over the last five years. 

“One thousand, seven hundred and fifty-nine days, Marco. That’s how long she’s been gone. Now… Now, you’re telling me that… That she’s home?”

Marco pulled his mother into a sideways embrace, feeling his own strength returning as she lay her head against his broad shoulder. “No… not home. But you can stop counting, Mama. You can stop counting the days we’ve lost… And start counting the days ahead.” 

Maria looked at the clock wistfully. “Ten hours… Ten hours until I get to see my baby girl again. These will be the longest ten hours of my life.”

“I know, Mama. But we’ve got a few phone calls to make. Beverly wants all of us there. We need to let the others know.”

Maria looked at her oldest son, the boy who had grown into a man so much like his father. She released a deep sigh. “Can you make the calls? I just don’t think I can talk to anyone else tonight.”

Marco understood what she meant. He knew his mother well, and he knew that the minute he walked out of her bedroom to call his brothers, she would be on her knees once again. Only this time, she would be reciting prayers of praise and gratitude to the God who had not forsaken her, nor forgotten her wayward daughter. Marco kissed her lightly on her forehead as he stood up. 

“Yes, I’ll call them. You try to get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day,” he said, reaching for the door knob.

“And do you know what tomorrow is?” Maria asked, still drying her tears.

Marco knew, but he offered her a smile as he placated her with a nod of his head. “No… What is tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” she said, swiping her fingers beneath her eyes. “Tomorrow is day number one.”

E!

Across town, an exhausted investigator closed the file he had been working on for a long time. Now, he had the unenviable task of delivering the bad news to his superiors. No one was going to like what he had to say, but he had learned years ago that people lie, facts don’t. And the facts in this case were adding up to a conclusion that no one would have been able to predict. While he had been hearing about it from his comrades across the country, this was the first time he had seen it firsthand. He pulled off his glasses, resting them on the thick brown folder then turned off the lamp over his desk. It had been a very long day and now most of the night had passed by, too. He stood up, pulling on his suit coat, and heading out the door of his office. He would deliver the news in person tomorrow morning. Then, he would prepare for the hell that was sure to follow.


	17. chapter 17

Warning: strong language

 

Chapter 17

 

Marco pulled on his shirt, buttoning it up as he thought about all that had transpired over the last 24 hours. His sister had not only been found, but her pimp, Ricardo Gomez, had been arrested. Ricardo had beaten her severely, leaving her scarred both physically and emotionally. She had been semiconscious when Marco had seen her last night at Rampart, and she had been afraid of him. He thought about how frightened she had seemed, pushing him away from her. He remembered how Dr. Brackett and Nurse McCall had immediately began attending to her while Dr. Early had escorted him out of the room. He tucked his shirttail into his jeans, wishing he had been able to stay at Rampart, even if he hadn’t been allowed to stay in the room with her. Leaving had been difficult, and now he was concerned about how she would react to seeing her family - if they were allowed to see her today. His ire returned as he thought of how forceful Beverly Marsh had been with him. Even though he knew that the woman was very knowledgeable about human trafficking, he still thought she was wrong by wanting to talk to the family before they were even allowed to see Lexi. That seemed counterproductive to her recovery. She needed her family. She needed to know they loved her. She didn’t need some stranger asking her a lot of questions and telling her how she should be feeling. Ricardo had spent years separating her from her family, and now this counselor was wanting to do the same thing. 

He sat down on the edge of his bed, pulling on his socks and shoes. A determination began to form in the pit of his stomach. Beverly Marsh wouldn’t prevent him from seeing his sister today, no matter what happened during the family meeting. Alexia needed her mother and brothers… And Antonio needed his mother. That thought brought another wave of worry washing over him. How would they explain her sudden appearance to her son? Would their reunion have to wait until her wounds were healed? He didn’t want the child to be frightened by how she looked. And he certainly didn’t want his first memory of the woman who had abandoned him to be of her lying in a hospital bed, attached to tubes and monitors, bruised and swollen. He ran a worried hand through his dark hair as he contemplated the situation between Antonio and Alexia.

A soft knocking sound on his bedroom door brought him out of his musings.

“Come in,” he called out, assuming the visitor was his mother.

“Meeko?” A soft voice called out as the door knob was turned.

“Hey there, young man. Did grandma tell you that you were going to stay at the DeSotos’ house today and play with Corrie?”

The child cast his dark eyes downward, nodding affirmatively as he stood before his uncle. He had always been a very perceptive child. 

“What’s wrong, Ant?”

The sad child looked up, tentatively. “Grandma’s sad… She’s crying in the kitchen.”

Marco gulped, forcing the lump in his throat to shift enough for him to speak. “Um, maybe it was just the onions. I’ll bet she’s dicing onions for salsa.” He knew the truth, but he wanted to protect his nephew as much as possible.

“I think I did something wrong,” Antonio said. He rubbed his eyes, sniffling. “Was I a bad boy, Meeko?”

Marco reached out, pulling the child into an embrace. He wanted to keep him safe from the ugliness of the world for as long as possible, but Marco feared that Antonio’s innocent happy childhood was about to come to an end. He had never asked about his mother, at least not that Marco knew about. Now, he was about to learn that not only did he have a mother, but she had abandoned him as a newborn. How was that going to affect Antonio as he got older? Would he become rebellious, too? Would he even accept her into his life? Marco ran a hand down the back of the child’s head, kissing him lightly on top of his shiny black hair. 

“No, Ant. No, you have never been a bad boy. Grandma is just a little worried about someone who’s in the hospital. I’m going to take her over there for a visit as soon as we drop you off with Joanne. I’m hoping that she’ll be feeling much better after that, okay?”

Antonio reached his small hands up, drying his tears once more, then encircling his uncle in a hug. He wrapped his small arms around Marco’s neck, patting him on the back. “I love you, Meeko.”

“I love you, too, Ant. Now, let’s go eat our breakfast, and then you have a play date with a pretty little girl,” he chuckled, picking his nephew up and walking out of the bedroom door.

“I gotta play with a girl? Yuck!”

“Hahaha,” Marco laughed, enjoying the feeling of the emotional release. “That attitude won’t last much longer, I’ll bet. It won’t be long and you’ll be chasing the girls,” he snickered, walking into the kitchen, placing his nephew in his usual seat. 

“What attitude?” Maria asked, keeping her back to the two Lopez men.

“Our little man here says that girls are yuck,” he said, rubbing the top of his nephew’s head. “I told him that would change very soon.”

“Oh dear, that is for certain. It didn’t take any of my boys long to recognize a pretty girl when they saw one.” She didn’t add the part she was thinking, wishing that her daughter had taken much longer to discover boys. But, that was all in the past. Today was the first day of Lexi’s freedom and nothing was going to spoil it. She patted her damp cheeks with the back of her hand before placing their breakfast on the table. She didn’t want her grandson to see her upset.

“Here we go, eggs and tortillas with fresh salsa,” she announced.

“See, Antonio. I told you it was just the onions making her cry,” Marco whispered loudly, ensuring that his mother heard so that she could confirm the story.

“Oh, goodness. Yes, I didn’t realize you caught me crying, Ant. Those are strong onions, but that’s what makes the salsa taste so good,” she explained, heaping a spoonful onto his eggs. Her voice nearly broke as she glanced at her son. He looked so much like his father, and today Maria missed her husband terribly. She needed his strength to get her through the next few hours, days, and weeks. However, he was gone, and so she would rely on her faith and her own strength to make it through. She would survive, and the Lopez family would come out stronger on the other side of this storm.

E!

The gray-haired chief looked up from his paperwork when he heard the forceful knock on his door. “Come in.”

“Chief?” Samford Bennett, a tall slender investigator asked, with only his head peeking around from behind the heavy door. “You got a minute?”

“Sure, whatcha got, Sam?” The older man pushed his reading glasses up onto his balding forehead, leaning back in his leather chair, loosening the Windsor knot in his blue and red striped tie.

“Well...,” the investigator hesitated, shifting from one foot to the other. He scratched his head for a moment before pulling the manila file from beneath his arm. “I’m really not sure.”

“Okay… Close the door and take a seat,” the senior man requested, a sense of foreboding settling in his belly.

Samford did as he was ordered, coughing into his sweaty palm as he took a seat. “I’ve been looking into these cases that date back a couple of months now, and…” He stopped again, unable to look at his superior in the eyes. 

“And?”

“And, these two happened in a different district,” he began, opening the folder and pushing two sets of papers to the side. “I’ll get them to the right person before I leave.” He hesitated once more, clearing his throat before continuing. He pulled the rest of the papers out of the manila folder. “Ahem, there’s something that I found that… It might just be a coincidence, but… Well, look for yourself,” he said, nervously pushing the papers in front of the older man.

“What am I looking for?” The officer asked, feeling a hint of annoyance with the young investigator.

“Um, I think maybe you should look at the underlined parts, sir.”

The chief returned his glasses to the end of his nose as he scrutinized the documents. “Mmmhmm,” he murmured as he perused the first set. “Nothing unusual here.” He then lifted the second set of papers, his eyebrows knitting together. Then, as soon as he finished scanning over the third set, he dropped the entire stack back down onto his desk. He removed his glasses with one hand, using the other to rub his dry eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose. “Sonofabitch!”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

The chief inhaled deeply as he pondered his predicament. “So, that’s two serious injuries and one death… So far,” he muttered into his steepled hands.

“Uh, no, sir. It’s one death and one injury,” the investigator corrected, looking across the desk. Then, without another word being spoken between them, the chief pushed a few papers toward the younger man. Sam picked up the crisp pages, his eyes skimming to one particular section. “Ohmygod!”

“I don’t need to tell you how critical it is that this situation be handled correctly from start to finish, do I?” The weary officer asked.

“No, sir. I… I understand exactly what’s on the line here… For all of us,” Sam acknowledged, dropping the newest information into his manila folder. “I’ll finish up this investigation as soon as I can and get you a report.”

“I want it fast, but accuracy is more important, Sam. And don’t breathe a word of this to anyone, not until we’re ready to, ah, to take the next step… If we must.”

Sam lowered his head as he stood up heading for the door. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

E!

 

Joanne heard the knock on the door. She dried her hands with the dishcloth then walked to the foyer to welcome her small guest.

“Good morning, Corrie. How are you?”

“Fine,” the little girl responded, giving Joanne a quick hug then rushing into the living room to find her favorite adopted uncle. 

“How are you, Caroline?” Joanne asked, welcoming the young mother into her home.

“Oh, I’m just fine, too. This may be a long work day; we’ve got a funeral tomorrow.”

Joanne nodded her head in understanding, just as Roy returned holding Corrie in his arms. “You don’t worry about this little one. She’ll be just fine. We’re keeping the nephew of Marco Lopez today, so she’ll have a playmate around to keep her busy until Jenny gets out of school.”

“Thank you so much, Joanne. I really don’t know what I would do without you,” Caroline spoke up. “No daycare would be as understanding and flexible as you are.” 

A slamming car door caught Roy’s attention. He looked between the two women standing in the foyer, and saw Marco getting out of the car along with Maria and Antonio Lopez. “And that playmate has just arrived,” he said, tickling Corrie in her belly.

“Hey, Marco,” Roy offered, concerned about the dark circles he was seeing beneath his friend’s eyes. While he and Johnny had not been formerly told the story about Marco’s sister, it had been easy enough to put the pieces together. Now the paramedic duo had an idea of whose child Antonio might be. He and Johnny had talked on the way home from the hospital last night. Neither one had had any idea that Marco had a sister, let alone that she was a prostitute. That much had been easy to understand. What hadn’t been so easy to understand was why Mike Stoker had been so deeply involved in the situation. 

“Good morning, Roy, Joanne, Caroline,” he said, nodding to each of the adults. “Um, this is Antonio,” he explained. “Caroline, this is my Mama, Maria Lopez.” He then turned to his mother. “Mama, this is Caroline Marks and her daughter Corrie.”

“Si,” the older woman said with a slight smile. “You are the reason Chet has been so happy lately.”

Caroline felt the blush rushing up her neck and heating up her face. “Oh, my. I… I certainly hope so. He’s been wonderful for me and… For both of us, right Corrie?”

The little girl responded with a grin, mimicking her mother’s expression. That had been happening a lot lately, and even though she was only a child, she understood that if her mother was smiling more, then she was happier than she had been in a long time. Her mother liked Chet and Chet liked her mother; that’s all that mattered to the little girl. “I love Mizzer Phet,” she explained, still using the same nickname for him she had used when they had first met, even though her word pronunciation had improved greatly by being around Jennifer DeSoto in the afternoons.

“And he sure loves you,” Marco replied, knowing how his partner felt about the little girl. “Corrie, this is my nephew, Antonio. We just call him Ant. He’s going to stay here and play with you today.”

The little girl looked curiously at the shy little boy who was hugging tightly to Marco’s leg. “Ant, this is Corrie. She stays here every day while her mother works at the flower shop. So, you’ll get to play with her today.”

Maria’s brain nearly exploded as she suddenly thought of a way to help her daughter feel better. “Caroline, do you make arrangements and take them to hospitals?”

“Yes, I do. Would you like me to make something for someone?” Caroline responded.

Maria looked at the two children present, not wanting to say too much in front of Antonio. “May we discuss it outside?”

Joanne had been briefed by Roy on what had happened at the hospital. She only knew bits and pieces, from what little Roy had been able to determine, but she could tell that Maria didn’t want to talk in front of the children. She decided to divert their attention to allow the women to talk about a floral arrangement. 

“Come on, you two. Let’s go see if Captain Kangaroo is on television, yet. We’ll get you both some juice,” she said, reaching for Antonio’s hand. He was reluctant to release his grip on his uncle’s pant leg, but soon decided that this place might not be so bad. Roy set Corrie down and she reached for Joanne’s free hand.

“Uh, I think that’s my cue to get the juice going,” Roy stated. He reached out his hand to Marco. “I hope today goes well.”

“Thank you,” Marco replied, shaking the proffered hand. “And thanks for the sitter service.”

“No problem. We’re happy to do it. He can stay here as often and as long as he needs to. I mean that,” Roy commented, his blue eyes boring holes into Marco’s soul. He wanted his friend to understand that he and Joanne would be there to help out, no matter what might lay ahead. “Jo’s really in her element when she’s taking care of children.”

Marco offered a weak smile then turned around, following Caroline and his mother out the door to their car.

“I want to send something that will let her know how much we love her. And that I want this to be a fresh start between her and her family,” Maria explained. She didn’t want to give any other details.

Caroline, being the professional she had been trained to be, spoke with a warm, kind voice. “How about a Star of Bethlehem? That’s the symbol of rebirth and renewal. Does that sound appropriate for the situation?”

Maria reached inside her purse for a tissue, pressing it to the corners of her eyes. “That’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

“We have some that are potted plants, so the recipient can keep them and they’ll grow back year after year if they’re taken care of,” Caroline announced. She had been learning so much from Iris. Her latest interest had been on the meaning of flowers. She was very proud of herself for being able to offer a suggestion to Ms. Lopez. 

“I think that would be very nice. Her…,” she hesitated, steeling her nerves. “Her name is Alexia Lopez. She’s my daughter and she’s at Rampart Hospital.”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’ll get that order out for delivery this afternoon,” she said, offering Maria and Marco a genuine smile.

Marco reached for his wallet. “How much will that be? I can go ahead and pay you now.”

“No, I can send you a bill or you can come by the store to settle up at your convenience. You’re a friend of Chet’s and… And I know you were there that day to help Corrie and me after the accident. I trust you,” Caroline offered, feeling as if she owed the man a debt beyond her ability to pay.

“Thank you. We’ll take care of the bill in the next day or so. And, just for the record, I’m glad I was there that day, too. You’ve, ah… Well, it’s just so good to see you and Corrie doing so well, and… And it’s nice to see my partner in a happy relationship. He’s really a good man.”

“I agree with you there. I’m a very lucky woman to have met someone like Chet,” she spoke softly, another blush coloring her face.

“According to him, he’s the lucky one, Caroline.” Marco’s smile and comment were both sincere. He truly was happy for his partner. 

“Aww, thank you,” she replied, glancing to the ground for a moment in embarrassment. When she looked back up again, she saw Mrs. Lopez still wiping her eyes. “I hope everything goes well with your daughter, and that she’s out of the hospital and back at home soon.” She gave them a smile, heading for her car. 

“I hope she’s right,” Maria said wistfully, glancing at her watch. “I hope she comes back home real soon, too.”

“Well, we better get going. We don’t want to keep that counselor waiting,” Marco announced with a hint of gruffness in his voice as he opened the car door for his mother. 

E!

At Rampart, Beverly sat holding the trembling hand of Alexia. The younger woman had had a rough night, caught up in nightmares and pain, resulting in her physical exhaustion. Beverly understood it better than anyone else in the hospital. She had sat with many weeping women she had helped rescue, and she sensed this one might be even more difficult than most. She squeezed the hand of the young woman, offering her sips of water to sooth her throat. 

“You can do this, Alexia. I know you can.”

“I-I don’t know. I just, I know they hate me; they have to after what I’ve done.”

Alexia had just spent the last hour telling a complete stranger her life story. She didn’t understand how she had done it, but Beverly truly understood where she had been, and the counselor had not only survived, but was now thriving. Did that mean there was hope for Alexia as well?

“What if he finds out? He’ll… He’ll kill them, Beverly. I know he will. He’s done it before and… He even, he killed my… my friend, Bri,” she choked out, losing her breath again amid her heaving sobs.

“I’m very sorry, Alexia. I’m so sorry that he did that, but he’s in jail now. He’s got a lot of charges against him, and if you have ANY information that can tie him to your friend’s death, then you must tell the police. That will help ensure that he stays behind bars and never hurts anyone else again.”

“No…,” she looked down at the tissue she was holding in her hand. “He just told me that she was dead,” she sniffled, wiping her tear-stained face with the dampened tissue. “She… She was going to call you, or your agency, I mean.” She began picking at the blanket that covered her legs, not wanting to look at her counselor. “She told me she had seen a poster and got the phone number. She wanted to call you, and… And get out of this, but… I guess she ran out of time. It’s kind of ironic, isn’t it? She wanted to call you, but you’re here for me, instead.”

Beverly reached for another tissue to replace the destroyed one in Alexia’s lap. “Tell me more about Bri.”

Alexia gulped, thinking about the severe beating Brianna had received, the event that had ultimately made her decide to get out of the business. She relayed the information to Beverly, glancing occasionally at the older woman. She seemed very interested in the story Alexia was telling which confused the younger woman.

Beverly smiled broadly. “So, were you and Brittany close enough to share your real names with each other?”

“Yes, that’s why we used the abbreviated forms of…” She stopped mid-sentence. Her melting dark eyes widening at the name Beverly had just used in reference to her former roommate. “How did you know…,” she stopped once more, a smile stretching across her battered face for the first time. 

“Well, I told you from the start that everything you say is confidential. I don’t release anything about you to anyone else without your permission. That goes for all the ladies at our facility,” she stated with a wink.

Alexia thought she understood the meaning, but she had to know for sure. “So, you know that my roommate’s real name is Brittany and not Brianna. That’s why I called her Bri,” she said with a grin that made her eyes water even more. “If…,” she swallowed hard. “If she IS still alive, then will you let her know… About me, I mean.”

“You bet I will,” Beverly responded, glancing at her watch. “Now, we don’t have much longer before I meet with your family. I need to know what you want me to say to them, and how much you want them to know.”

Alexia’s mind was reeling with the unspoken news of Bri’s survival. Suddenly, the weight of the world she had been carrying on her shoulders felt a little bit lighter. Maybe, just maybe, she could face her family after all.

E!

Maria and Marco sat fidgeting in Dr. Brackett’s office. Marco tried to talk to Carlos and Juanita, but the conversation seemed forced and awkward. Neither of the brother’s knew what to say, both concerned about how the next few hours might go.

“Are you sure Rafe and Cristobal knew what time to be here?”

Both men looked at their mother, neither one wanting to shatter her hopes of a happy family reunion. “Mama, I spoke to Rafael last night. He said he would probably be late because of a project he had to turn in. He’s going to cut his afternoon class so that he can be here, but he probably won’t make it until lunch,” Marco explained, looking at his younger brother for the rest of the story.

“I talked to Cristobal early this morning, as soon as Marco called me,” Carlos explained. “Mama, please understand that he’s just… I don’t know… He doesn’t see things the way we do. He…,” Carlos cast his eyes downward. “He may not come.”

Maria lifted her chin, offering her two sons and daughter-in-law her most steadfast look. “If that is his decision, then he will have to live with it. I am thankful to the three of you for being here for her. And, I do understand why Rafael isn’t here yet, but he is coming?”

“Yes,” Marco replied reassuringly. 

A soft knock on the door announced the arrival of Beverly Marsh. She stepped in, breathing a sigh of relief that more family members were present than just Marco, although a quick count told her that there were a couple of brothers missing. “Hello, my name is Beverly Marsh and I’m a counselor with The Wellhouse.”

Both Lopez men stood up, waiting for her to take a seat before they sat back down. Maria’s heart swelled with pride at their respectful behavior. “Thank you, Ms. Marsh. I’m Maria Lopez, Lexi’s mother.”

“I’m so glad you’re here, Mrs. Lopez. Alexia is very lucky to have such a loving family. Not all of the ladies I work with are so fortunate. And, please, just call me Beverly.”

“Si,” Maria agreed, unaware that she had reverted back to her native language, a habit she seemed to have when she was nervous.

Beverly looked to Marco and smiled. “Nice to see you again, Marco.”

“Thank you. Thank you for doing this for us,” he stated, knowing he still felt a bit of a grudge against her for delaying their reunion. 

“I’m Carlos, and this is my wife, Juanita,” the younger Lopez brother spoke up. “Our youngest brother will be coming later on, but my twin brother….” A knock on the door interrupted his explanation.

A man, who looked strikingly similar to Carlos stepped inside. His head was held downward, and he refused to make eye contact with the others. “Um, I’m sorry I’m late.”

Maria’s eyes began to sting as tears pooled in the corners. “And, you probably can tell, this is Cristobal; he and Carlos are twins,” the proud mother introduced. She patted the chair beside her, offering her late arriving son a place to sit. “Have a seat, Cris. We were just getting started.”

“Thank you for joining us, and you’re not late, Cristobal. I’m Beverly Marsh and I’m a counselor from The Wellhouse. I’m so happy to see you all here. You will be critical in Lexi’s recovery, more so than me or anyone else,” she began, hoping to relax them enough for them to be receptive to the disturbing things she needed to say to them.

“Have you seen her today?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Beverly said to the worried mother seated before her. “She’s doing much better today than she was last night,” she offered, giving Marco a brief smile. She knew that he was the only family member who had seen her and the experience had not been good. “Her physical wounds look pretty bad, lots of bruising and some swelling around her eyes and lips, but it’s her emotional wounds that I’m much more concerned about.” She looked around, seeing the distraught faces of the Lopez family. “What I’m going to tell you will be very difficult for you to hear. But you need to know the details before you visit with her. You need to know her fears.”

“That sonofbitch is locked up,” Marco blurted out. “She doesn’t have to fear him, anymore.”

Beverly saw her opening and jumped right in. “She is afraid of him, not so much for what he’s done to her. She’s a very strong and determined young lady. Her fear of him is of what he has threatened to do to you all… And to her son.”

“What?” Cristobal cried out. “Her son is just fine, not that she ever gave a damn about him. Did she tell you she left Antonio on Mama’s door step? What the hell kind of mother does that? She was more worried about doing what SHE wanted to do. I hope he did beat the hell out of her. Maybe that’s what it took to knock some sense back into her,” he exclaimed, much to the chagrin of his family. The angry man crossed an ankle over the opposite knee.

“Cristobal,” Maria began. “You are speaking about things you know nothing of. Now, watch your mouth,” she turned to her elder son. “That goes for you, too, Marco. I didn’t raise you to speak such foul language.”

“You didn’t raise our sister to be a whore either, but that’s what happened,” Cristobal mumbled.

“Cristobal,” Beverly interrupted. “If you’ll allow me to continue, I think you’ll see things in a completely different light when I’m finished.”

Cristobal stood up, running a hand through his shaggy dark hair. He hadn’t wanted to come, but his guilt forced him here. He had heard his mother state repeatedly that there was a reason for Lexi’s disappearance and for her staying gone. Maria had never believed that her daughter was acting on her own accord, but he wasn’t so sure. After a moment of silence, he turned back around to his family and Beverly.

“I’m sorry… Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Maybe she doesn’t need me with my attitude.”

“You’re right,” Beverly spoke up, cutting off the other family members who were about to pounce on Cristobal. “She doesn’t need your current attitude, but she DOES need you. Please,” she gestured to the empty chair. “Allow me to explain everything to you. Then you can decide if you want to meet with her or not.”

Cristobal acquiesced, taking his seat, shame coloring his face. “I’m sorry. My apologies to you, Beverly… And to my family. I promise to shut up and listen. If I don’t think I can handle seeing her, then… I’ll wait until another day.”

“Very well, first let me tell you that Alexia loves her family, especially her son, more than any of you can imagine. What she has endured over the last four or five years has been to protect you all, nothing else. Ricardo Gomez threatened to kill each of you if she had any contact with you. Her chance phone calls to you, Ms. Lopez, around your birthdays were very risky, but she made them because she loves you.”

Maria’s heart was breaking more than she thought possible. She leaned her head against Marco’s shoulder, allowing his strong arms to sustain her while Beverly continued. 

“Let me explain what happened with Antonio. When she went into labor, Ricardo refused to take her to a hospital until she agreed to place the baby for adoption. She held out, enduring the pain and fear of her first childbirth experience at the young age of fifteen, until she finally felt she had no other choice.”

Cristobal lowered his head, feeling the shame of his earlier words, and the years of bitterness he had felt for his sister. He couldn’t look up, even when Beverly continued.

“Ricardo was her pimp, you all know that. When he took her to the hospital to deliver her baby, he told the hospital staff that he was the father, but since they weren’t married they had decided to place the baby for adoption. But when Lexi saw Antonio for the first time, she told the nurses she had changed her mind. Ricardo was furious. He couldn’t hurt her in the hospital, but he wasted no time in hurting her as soon as they were discharged. He arranged for a fake birth certificate listing him as the father of the baby.”

“But we have the birth certificate,” Marco announced. “It was sent directly to Mama’s house, and this Ricardo isn’t on there. There’s no father listed.”

“Exactly, and truthfully, Ricardo isn’t the baby’s father; that’s another story. One thing you must understand is that Ricardo is a citizen of Mexico. He was able to get a fake Mexican birth certificate for Antonio. He was able to maintain total control over Lexi for the last four years because of the threats he made to kidnap Antonio from you, and take him to Mexico where none of you would ever know where he was, or ever see him again. She begged him to allow you, Ms. Lopez, to take Antonio. He only agreed because it would allow him to know where you lived. When they left the hospital, they went straight to your house, leaving the infant on your doorstep just as Ricardo demanded. Walking away was the hardest thing she had ever done, that is, until today. She’s lived the life of a prostitute since her son was born, in order to protect him from her captor.”

Carlos, being the only Lopez brother with children, couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “Bastard!”

“Carlos, please!”

“I’m sorry, Mama, but he’s just… Just a few minutes alone with him and no one will ever have to worry about him ever again,” Carlos threatened through gritted teeth.

“I’ll help you out, brother,” his twin offered, feeling disgusted with his own earlier outburst. 

“Ricardo uses birth certificates from deceased people, which he obtains illegally, to give his girls new names. That gives her a new identity, and makes her more difficult to locate by her family. That’s what he did with Lexi. She became Alexandra LeRoux, using the identity of a child who died in New Orleans over twenty years ago. That made Lexi’s age seem to be that of a legal adult when she was really much younger.”

“Please, Beverly… Please tell me that my baby girl will be safe now. Please tell me this evil man won’t be able to hurt her anymore.”

“I can’t make that promise right now, Mrs. Lopez. But what I can tell you is that Detective Crockett and the FBI are doing everything they can to see that he is punished for his crimes, all of his crimes, and then have him deported back to Mexico. We think he may be here illegally, using his own faked identification.”

“That’s good,” Maria replied.

Beverly swallowed hard, needing to share with the Lopez family the most difficult parts of Lexi’s story for them to hear. “Alright, I’ve given you an overview of her story since she left home. I can’t tell you how important it is for you NOT to ask her any questions. NOTHING,” she emphasized. She waited for each family member to agree before she continued. “Lexi has been brainwashed over the years. She firmly believes that you all are too ashamed of her to want to see her and welcome her back home.” She waited for the negative mumbling to quiet down before she continued. “She believes that you are here to basically give her the punishment she feels she deserves from you. And, she really doesn’t expect anyone other than you, Mrs. Lopez, to even come to see her. She’s expecting you to chastise her, then walk out the door and out of her life.”

“No, no, no,” Maria spoke up, leaning into Marco’s shoulder once again.

“Marco, I know you’ve seen her, and it didn’t go well.”

“She was afraid of me, Beverly. She kept trying to get away from me,” Marco answered.

“No… She was trying to get YOU away from HER. She was afraid of what might happen to you if Ricardo found out about the visit. She was afraid of what he might do to Antonio. She didn’t know he had been arrested. She only remembers bits and pieces, more like it was a dream. At least, that’s what she told me,” the counselor said.

“How do we convince her that we want her home?” Juanita asked, speaking for the first time.

Beverly spent the next half hour giving the Lopez family tips on how to reach Alexia. She warned them about not making sudden moves, not pushing physical contact, not expecting her to immediately feel safe even if she was at home and Ricardo was incarcerated. She told them about the trust issues that might never completely go away. Then, she had to warn them about the depression that so often followed the women after they were rescued. Beverly knew that the family didn’t want to hear her next statement, but she needed to go ahead and warn them. 

“I also have to tell you that for the first few weeks, she really needs to stay with us. Being around other women who have gone through similar experiences, learning from them and drawing from their strength. These ladies… We, as I was once trafficked like them, we need each other more than anyone could ever imagine. We need to hear the stories… And tell our stories… To people who will completely understand.” Beverly saw the offended looks on the faces of the Lopez family. “She needs to remain here in Rampart for a couple more days to treat the dehydration and infection. Then she needs to complete her recuperation at The Wellhouse. Going home needs to be her decision, when she’s completely ready to face the outside world again.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Marco complained, feeling his anger rise again.

“I know it must seem that way, but think about it like this. If she goes home now, she’ll be returning to a time when she was only a young teenage girl. She’ll become a fourteen year-old girl in the body of a traumatized young woman. She’s grown up on the street in a hell that you may never understand. She’s lived the last five years doing exactly what she’s been told to do. If she goes back home right now, then she’ll continue to feel like a child, and she might even revert back to her fourteen year-old self when it comes to making decisions. You don’t want a frustrated and depressed nineteen year-old woman behaving like a confused and rebellious fourteen year-old girl. She has to learn to make adult decisions without outside influence. Mrs. Lopez, no matter how hard you try, you’ll always be her mother and she’ll always be your child. She didn’t grow up slowly, learning to become an adult the way most people do. She was thrown into a very ugly adult world at a very young age. She’s got to have the freedom to learn to make her own decisions, at her own pace, without anyone influencing her choices – whether you mean to or not.”

Maria’s tears burned her cheeks. She had never considered Alexia going anywhere but back to her house. Marco reached out to hold her right hand, Cristobal did the same with her left. “It… It sounds like she needs the other women more than she needs us,” she cried.

“She needs them in a different way. They understand things that you can’t possibly understand. Besides, reuniting her with her son is going to take some time and special attention. They BOTH need to be ready for that day.”

Carlos spoke next, asking the question that was weighing heavily on each of their hearts. “Will we be able to see her today? Will she let us see her?” He asked, timidly, fearing the answer he might receive.

“That’s up to you,” Beverly said, sitting back in the leather chair behind Dr. Brackett’s desk. “She’s given her consent to see any member of her family who wishes to see her, but you must understand how afraid of rejection she is… It’s more than just fear, she’s terrified of how you’ll react to her.”

“We’ll love her, just like always,” Cristobal answered. “She’ll never know… that I… I really gave u-up,” Cristobal hiccupped, weeping openly before his family. Familiar hands, so much like his own, patted him on the back.

“It’s okay, brother. None of us knew,” Carlos consoled. “She’s alive, she’s back, and we’re all here. That’s all that matters.”

Beverly felt a sense of relief wash over her. Alexia had a loving supportive family and although the road ahead would be extremely difficult, she had a good chance of recovery. Her family was going to give her the best chance they could, and she had her son to keep her motivated, too. Not all rescues went this well. There would be bumps in the road, but she truly believed that the Lopez family was going to be reunited.

“Okay, it’s about lunch time. Why don’t you all grab a bite to eat and wait for Rafael to join you? I’ll go back and talk to Lexi, tell her about how this meeting went and prepare her for your visit.”

Cristobal pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “You, ah, you won’t tell her what I said, will you? About me being as-ashamed of her?”

Beverly stood up, walking over to the place where the upset man sat. She placed a hand on his shoulder, connecting with him. “No, Cristobal. I’ll never tell her what you said in here about her, or your feelings about this situation. I’m sure that everyone in your family has felt that way at one time or another. You may want to tell her or you may not. That’s up to you. I don’t recommend it, at least not in the foreseeable future. But remember, your opinions were based on the information you thought you knew, not the truth.”

“I never want her to know. I… I love my sister, Beverly. Probably more right now than I ever have,” he said in a whisper, feeling the reassuring squeeze Beverly gave him. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Thank you, all of you. She’s on her way to recovery now,” Beverly announced, walking over to the door. “How about you all come to her room around 1:30 pm. She’s in 215.”

“Will you be there?”

Beverly looked at the older woman, seeing the dark circles beneath her eyes. “If she wants me there, then I’ll be there. But that’s her decision to make,” she said opening the office door.

“We understand. Thank you, Beverly. We’ll be at room 215 at 1:30 pm. If you need us before then, you can find us in the cafeteria.”

“Thank you, Marco,” the counselor said softly, smiling to each family member as they walked out the door and into Alexia’s future.

E!

Joanne cleaned up the melted cheese in the skillet, hearing tiny voices talking to each other in the living room. The two children had eaten a lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches and carrot sticks while she and Roy had eaten sandwiches and tomato soup. Now, Roy was outside working in the garage as she cleaned up the kitchen. The children were supposed to be napping, but their soft innocent voices floated into the kitchen making her smile. They had gotten along so well today, and Joanne was content listening to their childish chatter. Then, a harmless statement changed the conversation into one that left Joanne with red-rimmed eyes and damp cheeks. 

“My mommy makes flowers,” Corrie spoke softly, delaying the sleep that was quickly catching up to her.

“I don’t have a mommy,” Antonio responded, sadly.

“Is she in heav’n? My daddy’s in heav’n.”  
“I don’t know. I just don’t have one. I don’t have no daddy either,” the sad little boy said, rolling onto his side on his pallet. 

“Then who takes care of you?”

“My grandma. I have a grandma and Meeko,” he said with a grin.

“Maybe if you be good, maybe Santa Claus will bring you a new Mommy and Daddy,” Corrie offered. “I’m bein’ real good ‘cause I want Santa to bring me a new Daddy.”

“Santa don’t bring new Mommies and Daddies… Does he?” Antonio questioned his new friend.

“I’m gonna ask him to. I want him to bring me Mr. Phet to be my new Daddy,” Corrie said, giggling softly.

Joanne felt the lump form in her throat and tears stinging her eyes. “From the mouths of babes,” she whispered to herself. “They know more than we realize,” she choked out, softly, tearing a paper towel from the roll to dry her eyes.

E!

“Rafael!” Maria said, looking up from her plate as her youngest son arrived in the cafeteria. “I’m so glad you’re here. Are you hungry?”

“Starving, but I think I’m too nervous to eat. I saw Ms. McCall in the ER and she said you all were in here. Have you seen Lexi, yet?”

“No,” Cristobal responded. “We’re to go to her room at 1:30 pm.” He glanced at his watch. “That doesn’t give you much time to eat and get filled in on what we know, so, Marco, if you’ll start the story, I’ll get Rafe some food.” Cristobal had seen enough tears from his mother and he knew more were likely to come soon. He figured 

“Thanks, man.”

The youngest of the Lopez brothers sat listening intently to what his family had to say. He was both angered and shocked by the news. He had also felt some of the same reactions that Cristobal had felt, thinking that Lexi was making her own decisions about the life she had been living. When he found out the truth, he was ashamed of himself. Cristobal returned with a bowl of chili and a sandwich, and joined the family. They had to create a plan of action for dealing with Lexi’s brainwashing. They talked of things to say and of what not to say to her. Each one agreed to speak only in positive encouraging tones. They each agreed to tell her that they loved her and wanted her back home. Finally, as the clock neared the appointed time, they stood up, put away their trays, and headed for the elevator. Whatever happened in the next few minutes was going to change their lives forever.

E!

A/N: Okay, sorry to stop it here, but I had no choice. It was getting much too long. The next segment is well underway so I hope to post it soon. Thank you all so much for sharing your thoughts with me. I appreciate your support and encouragement. As always, concrit is welcomed.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: We’ve come to the end of Marco’s Mission. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you all. Your comments mean the world to me.

 

Chapter 18

 

“Lexi, they’ll be here any minute. How’re you feeling?” Beverly asked, seeing the young woman sitting up in the hospital bed, squirming uncomfortably. 

“Like I’m about to be thrown into a den of hungry lions.”

Beverly patted Alexia’s hand gently. “No, you’re not about to be eaten alive. I found your family to be very loving and supportive.”

“That’s ‘cause they aren’t YOUR family, and you aren’t the one who fu-, um, I mean, screwed up,” the upset woman shot back, aware that the language she had grown accustomed to using was inappropriate now. “I love them so much, Beverly, but I know that they’re disappointed in me. I don’t know if they’ll be able to look at me, if they even come.” She looked down at her lap. “I can’t blame them, though… Not really.”

“I think you’re being harder on yourself than they’re going to be.” Beverly wanted to reassure the younger woman, but she knew that the family she had spoken to earlier might respond very differently once they walked into the room… If they were all able to make the visit.

A firm knock on the door caused Alexia to gasp. “Ohhh,” she whimpered, gasping for air. The quick inhalation created a coughing spasm. Her lungs were still fighting off the infection Dr. Brackett had diagnosed when she was brought in the previous night. 

“Take a sip of water,” Beverly said, lifting the cup to her lips. “Let me know when you’re ready; I won’t let them in until you say so.”

Alexia sipped the cooling water, grateful that it ended the coughing. She passed the cup back to Beverly just as a second knock sounded. Her knuckles ached as she gripped the waffle-patterned blanket in her tightly closed fists. Her heart felt as if it was pounding its way out of her burning chest. She forced her breathing to slow down so as not to start coughing again. She stared at one particular square on the blanket, steeling her nerves for what was about to come. Unable to find her voice, she gave her counselor an affirmative nod.

“Good girl,” Beverly reassured her as she walked the short distance across the tiny room. She pulled open the door, mouthing the words ‘Thank You’ to the six adults standing anxiously in the corridor. Instant relief washed over the counselor. They had all decided to come to be reunited with Alexia. 

“She’s asked me to stay, I hope you’re okay with that.”

“Yes,” Maria spoke softly, already wiping the tears from her eyes. 

Beverly opened the door wide enough for the group to enter. Cautiously, Maria walked in holding onto the muscular bicep of her eldest son. She was grateful for his steadfast strength, feeling his muscles flexing beneath her fingers as they took a couple of tentative steps forward. She wasn’t sure she would have been able to stand on her own. Her legs felt weak and her heart was in her throat. She wanted to rush to the bruised young woman sitting up in the bed, in spite of Beverly’s warnings. Even though Maria hadn’t seen her daughter in five years, there was no doubt that this was her baby girl. Maria noticed how thin she appeared, and her heart ached at the bruises she had sustained at the hands of a monster. But it was the downtrodden slump in her daughter’s shoulders, her face looking down at her lap, and her tightly clenched fists that told Maria more of the story. Beverly had been right. Her daughter, her little princess, was terrified of this reunion. 

Marco felt his mother gripping his arm and knew that he had to remain strong for her. This was going to be more difficult for her than he had anticipated. He encouraged her to use him for support, silently wishing he had someone to lean on, too. He saw the trembling young woman staring down at her lap, and his heart broke. While she was much calmer than she had been the previous night, she still looked like a terrified child. He remembered the feral-looking eyes he had seen last night, and was thankful that she seemed a little more settled. He wanted to reach out to her, hold her, and tell her how much he loved her, but he saw the anxiety she was feeling and knew he needed to take things slowly. He hated to admit it, but maybe Beverly had been right. This was going to be very tough, yet necessary for ALL of them.

Juanita wrapped her arm around Carlos’ waist, feeling his breathing rate increase rapidly as they walked into the room. She was a short woman and couldn’t see Alexia initially, but she maneuvered herself around to the side of Maria, and what she saw shocked her to her core. She couldn’t believe that the injured young woman was actually her sister-in-law. She felt Carlos suck in a quick breath and knew that he was struggling with seeing her for the first time. She gently rubbed his rib cage, reassuring him that she was there supporting him during this time.

Carlos loved his wife and children more than anything in the world, but when he saw the way his sad little sister looked, sitting up in the hospital bed, not yet able to make eye contact with them, he had to restrain himself from rushing to her. He wanted to hold her, assure her that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her ever again, and he wanted to let her know that he loved her just as much today as he had when she was just a little girl. She was his flesh and blood, and no matter what road she had traveled down, he would help her find her way home.

Rafael found himself caught up in a swirl of emotions as he walked into the room. He was the youngest of the boys and yet, had grown to be the tallest. He looked between his brothers to see her, and he couldn’t have been more shocked. She looked so helpless, battered and frightened. He thought she looked like a caged animal, afraid of her captor, fearful for her future. Yet, she was finally able to get away from Ricardo. He remembered what his mother had told him about the brainwashing, and he knew that the counselor had been right. This would take a lot of time, but Lexi was his younger sibling, the only person for whom he was a big brother. Now, she needed him, and he was determined to be there for her.

Cristobal caught a glimpse of his injured sister, and he nearly lost his lunch. He felt a bitter hatred for the man who had done this to her, but he also felt a bitter hatred towards himself. How could he have ever thought that she would want this kind of life? How could he have ever referred to her as a whore? She was his baby sister, and no matter what had happened, he loved her. He just hoped that she would still be able to love him, too.

The shuffling sound of footsteps walking into the room caused Lexi to grip tighten her grip on the blankets, wishing she could avoid the impending confrontation. Suddenly, she felt as if the walls were closing in, crushing her. She felt waves of heat rushing across her body, suffocating the life out of her while beads of sweat popped out on her forehead. A large lump formed in her throat, threatening to choke her, crushing her rapidly beating heart against her rib cage as it grew larger with each passing second. Yet, the one thing she should have felt but didn’t was tears. Her time spent on the streets had taught her never to cry when she was afraid or hurt. Tears were a sign of weakness according to Ricardo. Tears would make her situation worse when she was unable to protect herself. Tears only let others know she was vulnerable, an easy victim. Now, when she wanted to cry, she couldn’t; her body wouldn’t allow her the emotional release she so desperately needed. Instead, leaving her walled off, locked inside a human silo, a self-imposed emotional exile. She continued to stare at a waffled square on the beige blanket, the same spot she had been staring at since she heard the first knock on the door. 

“Le-xi?” Maria sniffled in a hitched voice, unsure of herself as she moved closer to her child. “Lexi… It’s Mama. I love y-you, ba-by girl,” she hiccupped, clutching tightly to Marco’s arm as they slowly stepped up to the hospital bed.

“We’re here, Lexi,” Marco mumbled, his voice sounding softer than he had intended. “I love you. I’m so glad to… to have you back.”

“Juanita and I are here, too, little sister. We were so excited when Marco called us this morning. It’s…,” Carlos gulped, fighting to keep his voice steady. “Having you back is an answer to our prayers.”

“We love you, Lexi,” Juanita somehow managed to speak, adding to what her husband had already said.

“Hey there, Manita,” Rafael spoke up, using the term of endearment he had always called her. “I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through, but I love you so much, little sister. I’m here for you.”

“Sis,” Cristobal began, wiping his face with his open palm. “I love you, my sister. I’m sorry that I didn’t do en-nough to he-lp you. Pl-please, oh God, Lexi, please for-give me. I know you ca-an’t right now, but I’ll do what-ev-ver it takes to make things bet-ter for you… even if y-you can’t ever for-give meeee,” he wailed, his voice pitching higher as he leaned against the wall for support, feeling as if the full weight of his guilt had just kicked him in the groin. He tried to stop the sounds of his crying, but he couldn’t do it. He hadn’t cried for her all these years because he had been too angry at her. Now, he realized just how wrong he had been, and he feared his relationship with his youngest sibling might never be repaired. He felt strong hands planting themselves on his shoulders, offering him support. When he opened his eyes, he saw Carlos looking at him with understanding. 

“It’s okay, take it easy,” Carlos whispered.

Alexia continued to stare at the square design on her blanket. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. There had been no disgusted words aimed at her, no lashing out, no criticism, or name calling. There had been no venomous phrases, or assaulting barrage of endless questions. No bitter barbs hurled at her from her embarrassed family members, or verbal daggers of anger, revulsion, or hatred. Each member of her family had come into her room. No one had spoken harshly to her. Instead, all she had heard was their statements of love and support. She didn’t know how to react to it. It had been so long since anyone had spoken kindly to her, and years since anyone told her they loved her. She knew she didn’t deserve their acceptance. She knew she wasn’t worthy of their love and forgiveness. She couldn’t imagine ever being allowed back into the fold. She felt her mouth go dry, but forced herself to breathe in as deeply as she could. She needed to respond to them, but what could she say? Her heart was melting. She had to say something to them, but her voice was weak and airy. She wanted to look up at them, but her neck seemed frozen, her spine rigidly locked in a self-preserving position. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock on the wall, and the quiet sniffling from among those gathered near her. Finally, with her white-knuckled grip still remaining along the edges of the blanket, she inhaled, then spoke in a child-like crackling voice.

“I-I’m, ahem, I’m, um, so sor-ry,” she managed to speak. “I-I lllove yoouu,” she slurred in a raspy whisper, the lump in her throat nearly blocking her words completely.

“Lexi,” Beverly said softly from the corner of the room. “You need to look over at your family. They’re here for you. All of the adults in your family are here with you right now. They don’t have to be here; they want to be here. Look at them… Please?”

Slowly, Alexia turned her head to the left, her eyes seeing the faces of the people she loved more than anything else in the world. The huddled mass of family she had suffered to protect was all here… almost. The one small face she longed to see, was absent. Ricardo had led her to believe that her mother hadn’t kept the child she loved so dearly, unwilling to raise the ‘bastard child of a whore’, he had told her. She wanted to ask, needed to know the truth about her son, but was too overwhelmed with her own emotions to form the question. She saw the tear-stained faces of the family she thought she would never see again. She couldn’t believe it. They were really here in the same room with her. Maybe, just maybe God had heard her prayers after all. Her eyes scanned the small group huddled in the tiny room, settling on the older face of her mother. Then, it happened. The stinging sensation that tickled her throat and burned her eyes. She watched as the images before her began to blur, as the tears she had bottled up for so long finally broke through the dam Ricardo had built to hold them back, the ultimate form of family separation.

“Ma-ma?” Lexi said in a frail hitching voice, again sounding much more like a little girl than a grown woman. She watched as her mother stepped forward, felt her mother’s trembling fingers brushing lightly across her forehead. The sensation bringing back memories she had thought were lost forever.

“My sweet baby girl,” Maria said in a whisper. “We have you back. I’m ne-ver going to… to let you go,” she struggled to say in her thick Spanish accent.

“I love you, Mama,” Lexi said releasing her death grip on her blanket, and reaching up to grasp the arms of the woman whose gentle touch she had longed for so many nights. Immediately, the two embraced and cries of joy filled the room.

Beverly continued to watch from her quiet corner. She saw Marco slide the bedrail down so that his mother could sit closer to Alexia. Maria was careful not to squeeze her daughter too tightly, mindful of her injuries. The counselor watched as the older woman gently encouraged her weeping daughter to lay her head on her mother’s chest, much like a small child would do. Marco made no attempt to hold back his emotions. He stepped to the head of the bed, reaching down to run his hand down Alexia’s long dark hair. One by one, the rest of the family slowly surrounded the bed, each one gently laying a hand on their long-lost sister. The gestures allowed Alexia to know they were there, but they also allowed the sibling group to confirm that the entire scene was real. Alexia was back with them, injured and emotionally unhealthy, but she was back. Now, true healing could begin for them all. 

After a few more minutes, Beverly quietly stepped out into the hallway, wanting to allow the family to reconnect without a stranger in the room. Alexia had made it through the initial meeting, and she needed to know that what was happening with her family wasn’t just a show for Beverly’s sake. Alexia needed to be alone with them for a few minutes, needed to know that they were really there for her, to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was still a member of the Lopez family.

Once in the hallway, Beverly walked to the small waiting area near the vending machines. She sat down, exhausted from being up all night. These rescues never got easier; they always took something out of her, leaving her a little emptier than before. But she continued on in her quest to rescue as many as she could. She had no family, no one to go home to, and so she threw herself into her work. Her broken family of origin had led to her own runaway experience. Her father was absent, her mother was a drunken drug addict. When her mother could no longer earn enough money to sustain her habits, she allowed one of her many boyfriend’s to have sex with Beverly when the girl was only twelve years old. The assault had left Beverly feeling ashamed, dirty, and angry at her mother for selling her, and so, she ran away. She later found out that her mother died from a heroin overdose. Beverly was taken in by a man who later became her pimp. After being rescued by a kind truck driver, she had managed to find her way to a homeless shelter. Even though she had only been a child, her identification had made her appear to be an adult. So, there was no loving foster family, no courts or welfare agency to look out for her best interest. She had made her own way in the world. When she found the Wellhouse, she found a true home, and a purpose for her life. But she was beginning to feel burned out, needing to find a way to replenish what these rescues took out of her, some form of nourishment for her compassion-fatigued soul.

Now, as she sat exhausted in the waiting room, having turned her life around, she longed for a relationship, perhaps even a family of her own. She needed some place to go to refill and refuel for the next crisis call. She could tell that she was growing empty, feeling as though she didn’t have as much to give as she once did. But, where could she go? Who could give to her so that she might continue to give to others?

“Ms. Marsh?” A gruff voice sounded, pulling her back to reality.

Beverly looked up into the blue eyes of the emergency room physician she had met the previous night. “Dr. Brackett, it’s good to see you again.”

“How’d it go?” The physician asked, getting right to the point.

“It went well, I think. I decided to give them a little private time. They all came,” she stated proudly, conveying to Dr. Brackett her optimism.

“I’ve known the Lopez family for a long time now. They’re a great group, very warm and loving… Very forgiving. I just can’t believe no one knew about her,” he stated flatly.

“Well,” Beverly sighed. “It’s one thing to have a sibling or a child who’s a doctor,” she said, waving her hand at the caring man. “It’s something else altogether to have a family member who’s a hooker. It’s not something most folks brag about.”

Dr. Brackett’s lip twitched, a nervous habit he had had since childhood. “I understand, but I think she’s in good hands, now. I hate to interrupt them, but I need to check on her. Want to go in with me?”

“Sure,” the tired woman said, accepting his proffered hand as she stood up. 

Dr. Brackett knocked on the door before he walked in. He didn’t like interrupting the family reunion, but his patient needed rest, so his purpose was going to be two-fold. “I really hate to break this up, but I need to check on my patient,” he announced, pulling on his stethoscope.

“We understand,” Marco spoke for the group, running his palm down his dampened face. “She needs her rest.”

“No, please? Please don’t leave?” Alexia begged.

“Dr. Brackett… May I please stay the night with her? It’s been so long…” 

Dr. Brackett looked into the face of Maria Lopez, knowing that there was no way he could refuse her request. “Of course, I think it’ll do her a lot of good. If,” he began, stepping closer to his patient. “If you promise to drink lots of liquids, eat as much as you can, and get lots of rest, young lady.”

“I promise,” Alexia said.

Dr. Brackett was careful not to check over her wounds while her family was still present. “If you all will excuse me, I really need to check her over. Just give me about five minutes, alright?” He asked, surveying the room.

“We need to go and let her rest anyway,” Carlos said, leaning over and kissing his sister’s cheek. “We’ll be back soon. When you feel up to it, we’ll bring the kids by. You won’t believe how they’ve grown.”

“Love you,” Juanita offered, squeezing her hand.

Rafael smiled to her. “Welcome back. See you soon, Manita.”

“Mama and I will be right outside the door, sweetheart. Love you,” Marco offered, reaching for his mother’s hand.

Cristobal stepped closer to say his good-bye. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered. “And I’m so ashamed of me. I love you.”

“I lo-ve you all… too,” she somehow managed to say amid her tears.

Dr. Brackett waited for the group to exit, suddenly realizing that Beverly wasn’t in the room with him. He assumed she was talking with the Lopez family in the hallway and began his check-up on his patient. 

“Can you lean up a little for me? I need to see your back.” He offered her his assistance, pulling her into a more upright position. He held the bell of his stethoscope in his hand for a moment to warm it up as he observed her respiration rate. He then carefully pulled the hospital gown away from her tender flesh, revealing her wounds. “I need to listen to your lungs. Take a deep breath for me…. Again… Again…” He moved the stethoscope around on her back, being as gentle as he could. “Good… How’s the pain level?” 

“Manageable,” Alexia replied, feeling self-conscious of her bruised body. She winced when Dr. Brackett palpated a particularly bruised area. 

“Sorry, I know that hurt.”

“I can take it,” she said, staring once more at the spot on the blanket.

Dr. Brackett closed the back of her gown back up then eased her into a reclining position. “Alexia, I know you CAN take it, but I don’t want you to. You need to relax and allow your body to heal, but it can’t do that if it’s stressed from pain… Or anything else. I’m going to increase the pain medication, only slightly, but enough so that you can sleep.”

“I don’t want it,” the downtrodden woman spoke up, referring to the pain relief her doctor was offering.

“Your mother is going to stay here with you tonight, so there’s no reason why you shouldn’t get some much needed sleep,” the physician encouraged. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. He’s locked up and you’re safe here.”

Slowly, Alexia raised her dark brown eyes to meet those of her physician. “Yes… I’m safe in here…,” she sniffled. “But…” She couldn’t finish the statement. She wanted to tell him that she deserved the pain, to stay awake and suffer. She had to pay for what she had done, especially to her son. Yet, her voice betrayed her and she was unable to complete the thought. Instead, she merely looked back down at the familiar waffled square on the hospital blanket.

“But what?” Dr. Brackett questioned.

She sniffled again, shaking her head in defeat. She didn’t want to talk to Dr. Brackett any more. There was really nothing left to say.

“Well, you buzz the nurses if you need anything. They’ll call me if you need me, alright?” His piercing blue eyes looked intently at his patient, not expecting her to answer. He decided to order an anxiolytic for her, hoping to reduce her anxiety level as well as her pain. “Okay, I’ll let your mother back in. You remember what I said. Fluids, food, and rest,” he said with a quick wink. “You’re doing very well, Alexia.” He encouraged, heading for the door.

Outside the hospital room, Beverly was talking to Marco and Maria. 

“Don’t worry about Antonio, Mama. Since he and I will be bachelors tonight, we might just go get pizza,” Marco grinned. 

Maria patted her son’s arm. “Thank you for being my rock, Marco,” she stated softly. “I wouldn’t have made it these last five years without your help.” 

She then turned to the counselor. “Thank you, Beverly. I can never repay you for all you’ve done. You were right about everything, and I’m sorry I wasn’t as cooperative in the beginning,” Maria whispered.

“You’re welcome, and don’t worry about that. I’m used to it. Most families react that way initially. No hard feelings,” she said, rubbing the older woman on the back. 

Marco nodded his understanding, having often dealt with distraught family members in his line of work. Maybe he and Beverly had more in common than he had originally thought.

“I’m grateful that you stayed with her last night, too. I know this sort of thing takes you away from your family. I just want you to know how much I appreciate it,” Maria offered, looping her arm around Marco’s again.

Beverly gave them a quick shoulder shrug. “Well, just for the record, I… I don’t have a family, so no one missed me. I was needed here. It was where I wanted to be.”

Maria heard the hint of sadness at Beverly’s proclamation, but didn’t have time to comment. Dr. Brackett opened up the door behind them, allowing them to return inside.

“Um, just let me say a quick good-bye,” Beverly requested, not waiting for an answer as she stepped inside Alexia’s room.

Maria raised an eyebrow in Marco’s direction, but her son was already thinking the same thing his mother was thinking. How could a woman like Beverly not have a family of her own?

Inside Lexi’s room, Beverly said her goodbye to her newest client. “Lexi, I’m going to go now. You have my number if you need me… Anytime, day or night. I’ll be back by to check on you tomorrow, and we’ll talk more about those arrangements we discussed earlier.”

“Thank you, Beverly. I do think it’s best for me to go to The Wellhouse, at least for a few days,” Alexia spoke up, still reeling from the visit with her family.

The counselor stepped back outside the hospital room. She nodded to Marco as he walked back in to say goodbye to his sister.

“You’ll let me know if you need anything, won’t you?” Beverly asked Maria.

“I will,” Maria nodded, turning around to walk back into the room. There, she saw her oldest and youngest locked in a tearful embrace.

“I love you so much, Lexi. I never gave up on you. I kept looking, I swear. I’m just so thankful you’re back with us,” Marco managed to whisper into the ear of his weeping sister.

“Love you, big brother. Thank you for never giving up, even though I deserved it.”

Marco wiped his tears, unable to respond to her last comment. That was something that he hoped she would stop saying eventually, but he knew she felt badly for her mistakes, even if she had made them when she was only a child. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Alexia nodded to her brother, seeing their mother walking back into the room. 

Marco stepped out of the room, seeing Beverly heading for the elevators. He knew what he had to do, although he wasn’t looking forward to it. “Ah, Beverly?” He called out.

“Yes?” She asked, spinning around to face the mustached man.

“May I ride down with you?” He asked, hoping to have a chance to apologize for his earlier behavior.

“Of course,” she responded, entering the empty elevator car. “I’m glad everything went so well today.”

“Me too,” he answered as the doors closed. He looked down at his feet, shuffling them a little to relieve his nervousness. “I owe you an apology.”

Beverly held up her hand. “Wait a minute. You don’t owe me an apology.”

“Yes, I do,” the dark haired man responded. He looked over at her, seeing just how intense her green eyes really were. “I didn’t believe you, last night or today. But you, ah… You really know what you’re doing. I appreciate that. And I really am sorry.”

Beverly smiled, her tired eyes feeling dry. “I promise, it’s perfectly fine.”

Marco looked up when the doors opened. The two of them stepped into the emergency department and he knew he was almost out of time. His mouth felt dry and his heart began to beat rapidly as he tried to think of a way to continue the conversation. He felt drawn to the counselor in a way he couldn’t quite understand. “Um…, may I walk you to your car?”

Beverly turned and faced him, unsure of his intentions, but feeling her heart flutter slightly. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know… But, I’d really like to. “I just want to know you made it safely,” he said, his face turning a hint of pink.

With a smile that lit up her exhausted features, Beverly agreed. “Okay, that sounds really nice.”

As the two made their way through the automatic glass doors and across the parking lot, neither spoke. The silence should have been awkward for Marco, but Beverly had the type of personality that made others feel comfortable in her presence. She slowed down her steps as she reached her car. “This is mine.”

“Oh,” Marco mumbled, disappointed that the walk was a short one.

“Thank you for walking with me. Lexi is lucky to have you as her big brother,” she smiled, watching her escort give a slight grimace. “Oh, did I say something wrong?”

“Um, no… I… I just don’t feel like a very good brother. I left her out there for a long time without finding her,” he said, his dark eyes dropping downward.

“Marco?” Beverly saw him swallow back the lump in his throat. She knew she needed to stop the runaway train of recrimination inside his head. “Marco? Are you okay?”

“Hmmm?”

She smiled at the innocent look on his face. “Put the brakes on it, buster,” she said forcefully, her open palm resting on his chest.

Marco’s eyes widened, unsure of what he’d done. “Huh? Wha-what do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve seen that look before…. And it’s a lie from the bowels of hell! You did everything you could to get her home. The last five years are NOT your fault.” She saw him look away from her again. In a move very unusual for her, she reached out and gently pulled his chin around so that he was facing her. “NOT. YOUR. FAULT. The only person who is to blame for this is in jail. And I’m going to do everything I can to see that that son of a bitch rots there. Today Lexi is free. Tomorrow she will be free. She needs you now more than ever so get your head out of your ass, and quit feeling sorry for yourself,” she said, her green eyes shimmering. “You can’t help her move forward if you’re gonna insist she stay in the past with you. You want her to let go of Ricardo and embrace her future, then you need to take a dose of your own medicine. Let. It. Go.”

Marco’s mouth hung open slightly. She had raised her voice and swore at him… But he got the message. He blinked his eyes rapidly, feeling as if he had shed enough tears in the last twenty-four hours. Part of him wanted to reach out to her, while another part wanted to cower away. Beverly Marsh was unlike any woman he had ever met, and she intrigued him. “Ahem, ‘kay,” he managed to say as he watched her open her car door and sit behind the wheel. 

“If you need to talk, you can call me,” she offered, seeing him nod his agreement as she closed the door. There was a lot more she wanted to say to him, but the words seemed inappropriate for the brother of a client. Her heart fluttered as she looked at his sad smile through her window. She watched as he raised his hand to wave at her as she backed out of the parking lot. She had to get away from him for a while, and the feelings he was stirring up inside her heart.

Back in Alexia’s room, Maria took a seat near her daughter’s bed. The nurse had just administered the ordered pain medication and antianxiety drug, and Alexia was beginning to feel the effects. 

“Okay, let’s get you laying back down,” the nurse said, lowering the hospital bed to a horizontal position. She then turned to Maria. “Here’s the call button,” she said, showing the older woman the small device. “Just press this button if you need anything.”

“Thank you so much. You all have been so kind to us,” Maria responded, watching as her daughter seemed to be struggling to focus on something on the ceiling.

The nurse smiled at Maria. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours to check on her,” she said as she exited.

Maria watched as Alexia’s lower lip and chin began to quiver. She continued to stare at the ceiling, her eyelids growing heavier.

“Mma-ma?” She asked, her voice sounding slurred.

“Yes?”

Alexia needed to ask the question causing her the most grief. The effects of the anxiolytic and pain medication lowered her inhibitions. “What hap-pened to… to my ba-by?” She questioned, struggling for answers against the effects of the morphine. 

Maria held onto her daughter’s hand. “Well, today he’s with the DeSotos and he’s just fine. He’s growing up so quickly and he’s so smart. Roy DeSoto works with Marco at Station 51. He’s very safe, Lexi. I promise, he’s in good hands.”

“Gooood,” she slurred. “Wha’s ‘is name?” She asked, wondering if he was still called Antonio.

“We honored your wishes, Lexi. You named him after Marco, didn’t you?”

Alexia could only nod her head in affirmation. Her tongue feeling too thick to form the words any longer.

“His nickname is Ant,” Maria said, a big smile spreading across her face as she thought of her precious grandson. “I’ve done the best I could to raise him the way you would want me to. I can’t wait for you to meet him,” she whispered, brushing away the tear that had leaked out of her daughter’s eye. 

“Yyyouuu, kep’ ‘im?” Alexia struggled to ask, still trying to determine if everything Ricardo had told her had been a lie. Had her mother kept Antonio? Had she managed to accept the bastard son of her prostitute daughter, after all?

“Of course, he’s my grandson. I love that little boy so much, Lexi. You’re going to be so proud. Now, close your eyes and rest… The sooner you get better, the sooner the two of you can get to know each other,” Maria whispered, unsure of how to explain to her grandson that his mother had returned, yet incredibly grateful for the opportunity to do so.

Alexia lost her battle against the analgesic, her muddled brain trying to put together the pieces of information her mother had just given her. “Annntonio …,” she mumbled, succumbing to the darkness that quickly closed in around her.

E!

At Bloomers, Caroline tied the royal purple bow around the base of the flower pot holding the pretty green plant with the white flowers.

“A Star of Bethlehem?”

Caroline looked up from the work table, smiling at her boss. “Yes, it’s for the sister of Chet’s friend, Marco. She’s hospitalized at Rampart. I saw her mother and Marco this morning and… Well, I’m not exactly sure of what’s going on, but it sounded like she’s been away from her family… Maybe fighting an addiction or something. They wanted something to symbolize a new beginning.” Beverly placed the card in the plastic holder and pushed it into the dirt in the flower pot. She stood back admiring her creation. “I remembered what you told me, and I thought this might be appropriate.”

Iris looked at the pretty plant with the royal purple bow. Her throat constricted as she thought of her own long lost daughter and her desire for reconciliation. “Yes… It’s perfect,” she announced wistfully. 

“Okay, I’m on my way to make the hospital rounds. The rest of the arrangements are already loaded in the van. I’ll be back as soon as I’m finished. Do you have many orders for the funeral tomorrow?”

Iris looked down at the order book, counting as she thumbed through the orders. “Yes, most are green plants, but it’ll still be a long afternoon, I’m afraid. Can you work over a couple of hours?”

“Yes, Joanne is so great about helping me out. I’m sorry for the loss of the decedent, but I’m glad folks are calling us for their floral arrangements. That’s good for business, right?” She questioned, rhetorically as she gathered up her purse.

“Yes… Yes, it is,” Iris said, watching as the young woman walked out the back door, the Star of Bethlehem in her arm. “Be careful, Caroline.”

“I will… Thanks.”

An hour later, Maria was perusing a magazine, Alexia sleeping soundly, when a soft knocking sound was heard. Quickly, she got up and crossed the small room, quietly opening the door.

“Caroline, so nice to see you again,” Maria acknowledged. “Oh, my… It’s beautiful,” she said, her eyes widening when she saw the beautiful plant. “She’s going to love it.”

Caroline passed the plant over to the older woman, aware that she seemed to be blocking the entrance to her daughter’s room. “Well, I hope she enjoys it.”

“Oh, I’m sure she will. She’s sleeping now,” Maria whispered. “Thank you again. It’s perfect.”

“You’re welcome,” Caroline said with a smile. “I’ll see you later.”

“Goodbye,” Maria said, closing the door. She set the plant on the table, staring at her sleeping daughter. She had to repeatedly convince herself that Alexia had really been returned to them, no longer in the hold of Ricardo Gomez. 

E!

A week later, Alexia was ready to be released from Rampart to go to The Wellhouse. As soon as she was settled in, she would be allowed to meet her son. She was anxious, fearful, and feeling excited all at once. She looked at the framed pictures of Antonio that her mother and Marco had brought to her. 

“These are for your room at The Wellhouse, sweetheart. I’m just so proud of you,” she said to her daughter.

“I can’t wait to meet him,” Alexia said, running her fingers along the glass covering her son’s pictures, imagining how soft his skin might feel. “I… I can’t ev-er pay you ba-ck for…” Alexia completely lost her voice. She wanted to tell her mother how much she appreciated her for taking care of her baby, but the words couldn’t find their way past the emotional lump in her throat.

Maria sat on the edge of the bed, holding her daughter tightly against her chest. She knew what Alexia was trying to say, but the words weren’t necessary. She had her baby back, and Alexia would soon know how that felt when she was able to hold her own son in her arms. “Sshhhh, I loved doing it, Lexi. I would do it again in a heartbeat, but I want you to know the joys of motherhood. He’s your son, and no one is ever going to take him away from you again,” she soothed, rubbing her daughter’s back softly as they both gently wept.

Marco felt his eyes misting over, but cleared his throat to force his emotions to settle down. He had taken a leave of absence from work in order to assist Alexia in getting settled in at the recovery center. As soon as that was accomplished, he would head over to the DeSoto home to pick up Antonio. If everything went as planned, today would be the day he would find out that he had a mother who loved him, and hopefully he would get to meet her, too. But, there was another reason why Marco didn’t want his eyes to be too red when he got to The Wellhouse, a certain green-eyed counselor named Beverly Marsh.

E!

“Mornin’, mornin’, mornin’,” Johnny sang, waltzing into the locker room with plenty of time to spare. 

Chet leaned against his locker, watching his pigeon as the lanky man propped a foot on the bench in front of his locker. 

“How’s your time off?” Johnny asked Roy, leaning his forearms on his knees looking at his quiet partner. 

Roy cut a quick glance at the curly-haired lineman who was obviously loitering in the locker room. There was only one reason why Chet stayed in the locker room after he was dressed for duty.

Johnny saw the look Roy gave Chet, and he arched an eyebrow in the lineman’s direction. “Where’s Marco?”

“Oh, he’s taking some time off. His sister is being released from the hospital today,” he announced, grinning like the Cheshire cat as he thought about his recent conversation with Caroline about the language of flowers. Johnny had just given him the perfect opening to continue the conversation. “You know what, Gage? I’m really learning a lot from Caroline.”

“Oh, yea?” Johnny asked, shifting his position and propping his hand against his closed locker. “Did she explain where babies come from?”

“Oh, ha-ha. I bet you don’t know the meaning of the Star of Bethlehem,” Chet spouted off.

“Sure I do; it led the wise men to the place where Jesus was born.”

“No, Gage… The flower, Star of Bethlehem,” Chet chided, rolling his eyes at Roy who was seated on the bench putting on his socks and shoes, trying to ignore the two joisting men.

“Well, Oh Wise One,” Johnny responded, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why don’t you enlighten me on the meaning of flowers?”

Mike Stoker walked in just as the verbal sparring match got heated up. “What’s going on?” He asked Roy.

“A battle of the minds between two unarmed men,” Roy deadpanned.

Chet didn’t hear the comments between the two other men in the locker room. He and Johnny were too determined to outwit each other. “I will. It means rebirth, a new beginning. Impressive, huh?” Chet asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Johnny’s lopsided grin spread up the left side of his face. “Really? That is impressive,” he mused, stroking his chin as if deep in thought. “Well, what does Jimson Weed mean?”

Chet gulped. “Um… Ah…”

Roy stood up, tucking in his shirt tail. Mike stepped a little closer to Johnny, wondering where this conversation was headed.

“Don’t know, do ya?” Johnny questioned his nemesis, grinning as he reached for his locker door. “It’s the perfect flower to represent you,” he said, pulling open the door and hearing the springing noise.

“SHIT!” Mike cursed, wiping his water-soaked face. “KELLY!”

Chet’s eyes grew as big as saucers when he realized that his water bomb had hit his engineer. “Um, yea… Sorry, Mike. I think I’ll go call Caroline now. I’ll catch up with ya at roll call, Gage.”

Johnny snickered as Chet shot out the back of the locker room headed for the dorm. He knew the lineman was going to call Caroline to find out the meaning of Jimson Weed, and he couldn’t contain his laughter. “Hahaha.”

“Stoker?” Hank called out, pushing open the door. He saw the dampened shirt being pulled over the angry red face of his engineer. “Uh, get cleaned up and come to my office, will ya? Got some guys here who want to talk to you.” He looked around the room for the man he knew set up the prank. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him.”

Johnny watched Mike fuming as he followed Hank into the apparatus bay. He looked around the locker room, empty except for his quiet partner. “Wonder what that’s all about?” He questioned, nodding his head towards the captain’s office.

“I dunno…. What does Jimson Weed mean?” Roy asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

Johnny removed the remains of the water bomb then began removing his street clothes. “Oh, it’s also known as Devil’s snare. It means disguise. I just think that fits the Phantom, don’t you?”

“Yea… But how do you know that?”

Johnny began buttoning up his blue shirt. “I’m a man of mystery, partner,” he grinned, never answering Roy’s question.

Johnny finished dressing and he and Roy made their way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Inside, they met Marco’s replacement, a lineman from station 110. “Hey, Pete. Nice to see ya, again.”

The three men carried on a friendly conversation for several minutes until they heard Hank’s office door slamming. All three looked up, wondering what would cause Hank to close his door in that manner. Momentarily, a wide-eyed Chet walked in, looking somewhat pale.

“Damn, Chet… Cap’s pissed off at you, huh?”

“Um… It’s also known as Devil’s Snare or Thornapple… means disguise… Jimson Weed means disguise,” he stated flatly in a staccato voice, looking back over his shoulder at the apparatus bay. “Um…”

The two paramedics looked at each other, their eyes full of questions. “Chet… You okay, pal?”

“C-Cap said for us to stay in here,” the Irishman said, staring blankly in front of him.

“Where’s Stoker?” Pete asked, unaware of the men who had come in earlier to interview the engineer.

“Gone…,” Chet replied, staring at the air in front of him. “He’s… gone.”

E!

A/N: I want to thank you all for following this story and especially to those who have shared your thoughts with me. Hank Stanley was noticeably absent in this story, but you’ll find out why as we move forward. I hope you will continue this journey with me as we move on to “Stoker’s Scandal.” Just so you know, we will be there when Antonio meets Alexia.


End file.
